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AT  URE  .A-CHAMPAIGN 
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HISTORY 


OF 


JOSEPHINE 


BY  JACOB  ABBOTT 


With  Engravings 


NEW  YORK 
W.  L.  ALLISON  CO, 


PUBLISHERS 


Abbott’s  Historical  Series. 


JULIUS  CAESAR 

WILLIAM  THE  CONQUEROR 

ALEXANDER  THE  GREAT 
CYRUS  THE  GREAT 

MARIE  ANTOINETTE 
ROMULUS 

MARY,  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS 
JOSEPHINE 

PYRRHUS 

KING  CHARLES  I. 

KING  CHARLES  II. 

HERNANDO  CORTEZ 
ELIZABETH 

HANNIBAL  DARIUS 

XERXES 

ALFRED  THE  GREAT 

MADAME  ROLAND 


PUBLISHED  BY 

W.  L.  Allison  Co.  , New  York 

i 


JOSEPHINE. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  Life  in  Martinique 7 

II.  Marriage  of  Josephine 22 

III.  Arrest  of  M.  Beauharnais  and  Josephine 38 

IV.  Scenes  in  Prison 54 

V.  The  Release  from  Prison 66 

VI.  Josephine  in  Italy . 87 

VII.  Josephine  at  Malmaison 108 

VIII.  Josephine  the  wife  of  the  First  Consul 125 

IX.  Developments  of  Character 143 

X.  The  Coronation 168 

XI.  Josephine  an  Empress 197 

XII .  The  Divorce  and  Last  Days 243 


ENGRAVINGS. 


Portrait  Josephine 

The  Sibyl 

The  Warning 

The  Pantomime  . . 
Isola  Bella  ....... 

The  Interview 
The  Coronation . . . 


Frontispiece 

16 

46 

68 

.......  90 

150 

190 


PREFACE. 


Maria  Antoinette  Madame  Roland,  and 
Josephine  are  the  three  most  prominent  hero- 
ines of  the  French  Revolution.  The  history 
of  their  lives  necessarily  records  all  the  most 
interesting  events  of  that  most  fearful  tragedy 
which  man  has  ever  enacted.  Maria  Antoi- 
nette beheld  the  morning  dawn  of  the  Revolu- 
tion; its  lurid  mid-day  sun  glared  upon  Ma- 
dame Roland  ; and  Josephine  beheld  the  porten- 
tous phenomenon  fade  away.  Each  of  these 
heroines  displayed  traits  of  character  worthy 
of  all  imitation.  No  one  can  read  the  history 
of  their  lives  without  being  ennobled  bv  the 
contemplation  of  the  fortitude  and  grandeur  of 
spirit  they  evinced.  To  the  young  ladies  of 
our  land  we  especially  commend  the  Heroines 
of  the  French  Revolution. 


JOSEPHINE 


CHAPTER  I. 

LIFE  IN  MARTINIQUE. 

The  island  of  Martinique  emerges  in  tropi- 
cal luxuriance  from  the  bosom  of  the  Caribbean 
Sea.  A meridian  sun  causes  the  whole  land  to 
smile  in  perennial  verdure,  and  all  the  gorgeous 
flowers  and  luscious  fruits  of  the  torrid  zone 
adorn  upland  and  prairie  in  boundless  pro- 
fusion. Mountains,  densely  wooded,  rear  their 
summits  sublimely  to  the  skies,  and  valleys 
charm  the  eye  with  pictures  more  beautiful 
than  imagination  can  create.  Ocean  breezes 
ever  sweep  these  hills  and  vales,  and  temper  the 
heat  of  a vertical  sun.  Slaves,  whose  dusky 
limbs  are  scarcely  veiled  by  the  lightest  cloth- 
ing, till  the  soil,  while  the  white  inhabitants, 
supported  by  the  indolent  labor  of  these  unpaid 
menials,  loiter  away  life  in  listless  leisure  and 
in  rustic  luxury.  Far  removed  from  the  dissi- 
pating influences*  of  European  and  American 


8 


JOSEPHINE. 


opulence,  they  dwell  in  their  secluded  island  in 
a state  of  almost  patriarchal  simplicity. 

About  the  year  1760,  a young  French  officer, 
Captain  Joseph  Gaspard  Tascher,  accompanied 
his  regiment  of  horse  to  this  island.  While 
here  on  professional  duty,  he  became  attached 
to  a young  lady  from  France,  whose  parents, 
formerly  opulent,  in  consequence  of  the  loss  of 
property,  had  moved  to  the  West  Indies  to  re- 
trieve their  fortunes.  But  little  is  known  re- 
specting Mademoiselle  de  Sanois,  this  young 
lady,  who  was  soon  married  to  M.  Tascher. 
Josephine  was  the  only  child  born  of  this  union. 
In  consequence  of  the  early  death  of  her  mother, 
she  was,  while  an  infant,  intrusted  to  the  care 
of  her  aunt.  Her  father  soon  after  died,  and 
the  little  orphan  appears  never  to  have  known 
a father’s  or  a mother’s  love. 

Madame  Renaudin,  the  kind  aunt,  who  now, 
with  maternal  affection,  took  charge  of  the  help- 
less infant,  was  a lady  of  wealth,  and  of  great 
benevolence  of  character.  Her  husband  was  the 
owner  of  several  estates,  and  lived  surrounded 
by  all  that  plain  and  rustic  profusion  which 
characterizes  the  abode  of  the  wealthy  planter. 
His  large  possessions,  and  his  energy  of  charac- 
ter, gave  him  a wide  influence  over  the  island. 
He  was  remarkable  for  his  humane  treatment 
of  his  slaves,  and  for  the  successful  manner  with 
which  he  conducted  the  affairs  of  his  plantations* 


LIFE  IN  MARTINIQUE. 


9 


The  general  condition  of  the  slaves  of  Marti- 
nico  at  this  time  was  very  deplorable  ; but  on 
the  plantations  of  M.  Renaudin  there  was  as 
perfect  a state  of  contentment  and  of  happiness 
as  is  consistent  with  the  deplorable  institution 
of  slavery.  The  slaves,  many  of  them  but  re- 
cently torn  from  their  homes  in  Africa,  were 
necessarily  ignorant,  degraded,  and  supersti- 
tious. They  knew  nothing  of  those  more  ele- 
vated and  refined  enjoyments  which  the  culti- 
vated mind  so  highly  appreciates,  but  which  are 
so  often  also  connected  with  the  most  exquisite 
suffering.  Josephine,  in  subsequent  life,  gave 
a very  vivid  description  of  the  wretchedness  of 
the  slaves  in  general,  and  also  of  the  peace  and 
harmony  which,  in  striking  contrast,  cheered 
the  estates  of  her  uncle.  When  the  days*  tasks 
were  done,  the  negroes,  constitutionally  light- 
hearted and  merry,  gathered  around  their  cab- 
ins with  songs  and  dances,  often  prolonged  late 
into  the  hours  of  the  night.  They  had  never 
known  anything  better  than  their  present  lot. 
They  compared  their  condition  with  that  of  the 
slaves  on  the  adjoining  plantations,  and  exulted 
in  view  of  their  own  enjoyments.  M.  and  Ma- 
dame Renaudin  often  visited  their  cabins,  spoke 
words  of  kindness  to  them  in  their  hours  of 
sickness  and  sorrow,  encouraged  the  formation 
of  pure  attachments  and  honorable  marriage 
among  the  young,  and  took  a lively  interest  in 


10 


JOSEPHINE. 


their  sports.  The  slaves  loved  their  kind  mas- 
ter and  mistress  most  sincerely,  and  manifested 
their  affection  in  a thousand  simple  ways  which 
touched  the  heart. 

Josephine  imbibed  from  infancy  the  spirit  of 
her  uncle  and  aunt.  She  always  spoke  to  the 
slaves  in  tones  of  kindness,  and  became  a uni- 
versal favorite  with  all  upon  the  plantations. 
She  had  no  playmates  but  the  little  negroes, 
and  she  united  with  them  freely  in  all  their 
sports.  Still,  these  little  ebon  children  of  bond- 
age evidently  looked  up  to  Josephine  as  to  a 
superior  being.  She  was  the  queen  around 
whom  they  circled  in  affectionate  homage.  The 
instinctive  faculty,  which  Josephine  displayed 
through  life,  of  winning  the  most  ardent  love 
of  all  who  met  her,  while,  at  the  same  time, 
she  was  protected  from  any  undue  familiarity, 
she  seems  to  have  possessed  even  at  that  early 
day.  The  children,  who  were  her  companions 
in  all  the  sports  of  childhood,  were  also  duti- 
ful subjects  ever  ready  to  be  obedient  to  her 
will. 

The  social  position  of  M.  Renaudin,  as  one 
of  the  most  opulent  and  influential  gentlemen 
of  Martinique,  necessarily  attracted  to  his  hos- 
pitable residence  much  refined  and  cultivated 
society.  Strangers  from  Europe  visiting  the 
island,  planters  of  intellectual  tastes,  and  ladies 
of  polished  manners,  met  a cordial  welcome  be- 


LIFE  IN  MARTINIQUE. 


11 


neath  the  spacious  roof  of  this  abode,  where  all 
abundance  was  to  be  found.  Madame  Renau- 
din  had  passed  her  early  years  in  Paris,  and  her 
manners  were  embellished  with  that  elegance 
and  refinement  which  have  given  to  Parisian 
society  such  a world-wide  celebrity.  There 
was,  at  that  period,  much  more  intercourse  be- 
tween the  mother  country  and  the  colonies  than 
at  the  present  day.  Thus  Josephine,  though 
reared  in  a provincial  home,  was  accustomed, 
from  infancy,  to  associate  with  gentlemen  and 
ladies  who  were  familiar  with  the  etiquette  of 
the  highest  rank  in  society,  and  whose  conver- 
sation was  intellectual  and,  improving. 

It  at  first  view  seems  difficult  to  account  for 
the  high  degree  of  mental  culture  which  Jo- 
sephine displayed,  when,  seated  by  the  side  of 
Napoleon,  she  was  the  Empress  of  France.  Her 
remarks,  her  letters,  her  conversational  ele- 
gance, gave  indication  of  a mind  thoroughly 
furnished  with  information  and  trained  by  se- 
vere discipline.  And  yet,  from  all  the  glimpses 
we  can  catch  of  her  early  education,  it  would 
seem  that,  with  the  exception  of  the  accomplish- 
ments of  music,  dancing,  and  drawing,  she  was 
left  very  much  to  the  guidance  of  her  own 
instinctive  tastes.  But,  like  Madame  Roland, 
she  was  blessed  with  that  peculiar  mental  con- 
stitution, which  led  her,  of  her  own  accord,  to 
treasure  up  all  knowledge  which  books  or  con- 


12 


JOSEPHINE. 


versation  brought  within  her  reach.  From 
childhood  until  the  hour  of  her  death,  she  was 
ever  improving  her  mind  by  careful  observation 
and  studious  reading.  She  played  upon  the 
harp  with  great  skill,  and  sang  with  a voice  of 
exquisite  melody.  She  also  read  with  a correct- 
ness of  elocution  and  a fervor  of  feeling  which 
ever  attracted  admiration.  The  morning  of  her 
childhood  was  indeed  bright  and  sunny,  and 
her  gladdened  heart  became  so  habituated  to 
joyousness,  that  her  cheerful  spirit  seldom  failed 
her  even  in  the  darkest  days  of  her  calamity. 
Her  passionate  love  for  flowers  had  interested 
her  deeply  in  the  study  of  botany,  and  she  also 
became  very  skilful  in  embroidery,  that  accom- 
plishment which  was  once  deemed  an  essential 
part  of  the  education  of  every  lady. 

Under  such  influences  Josephine  became  a 
child  of  such  grace,  beauty,  and  loveliness  of 
character  as  to  attract  the  attention  and  the 
admiration  of  all  who  saw  her.  There  was  an 
affectionateness,  simplicity,  and  frankness  in 
her  manners  which  won  all  hearts.  Her  most 
intimate  companion  in  these  early  years  was  a 
young  mulatto  girl,  the  daughter  of  a slave,  and 
report  said,  with  how  much  truth  it  is  impos- 
sible to  know,  that  she  was  also  the  daughter 
of  Captain  Tascher  before  his  marriage.  Her 
name  was  Euphemie.  She  was  a year  or  two 
older  than  Josephine,  but  she  attached  herself 


LIFE  IN  MARTINIQUE. 


13 


with  deathless  affection  to  her  patroness  ; and, 
though  Josephine  made  her  a companion  and  a 
confidante,  she  gradually  passed,  even  in  these 
early  years,  into  the  position  of  a maid  of  honor, 
and  clung  devotedly  to  her  mistress  through  all 
the  changes  of  subsequent  life.  Josephine,  at 
this  time  secluded  from  all  companionship  with 
young  ladies  of  her  own  rank  and  age,  made 
this  humble  but  active-minded  and  intelligent 
girl  her  bosom  companion.  They  rambled  to- 
gether, the  youthful  mistress  and  her  maid,  in 
perfect  harmony.  From  J osephine's  more  high- 
ly-cultivated mind  the  lowly-born  child  derived 
intellectual  stimulus,  and  thus  each  day  became 
a more  worthy  and  congenial  associate.  As 
years  passed  on,  and  Josephine  ascended  into 
higher  regions  of  splendor,  her  humble  attend- 
ant gradually  retired  into  more  obscure  posi- 
tions, though  she  was  ever  regarded  by  her  true- 
hearted mistress  with  great  kindness. 

Josephine  was  a universal  favorite  with  all 
the  little  negro  girls  of  the  plantation.  They 
looked  up  to  her  as  to  a protectress  whom  they 
loved,  and  to  whom  they  owed  entire  homage. 
She  would  frequently  collect  a group  of  them 
under  the  shade  of  the  luxuriant  trees  of  that 
tropical  island,  and  teach  them  the  dances  which 
she  had  learned,  and  also  join  with  them  as  a 
partner.  She  loved  to  assemble  them  around 
her,  and  listen  to  those  simple  negro  melodies 


14 


JOSEPHINE. 


which  penetrate  every  heart  which  can  feel  the 
power  of  music.  Again,  all  their  voices,  in 
sweet  harmony,  blended  with  hers  as  she  taught 
them  the  more  scientific  songs  of  Europe.  She 
would  listen  with  unaffected  interest  to  their 
tales  of  sorrow,  and  weep  with  them.  Often 
she  interposed  in  their  behalf  that  their  tasks 
might  be  lightened,  or  that  a play-day  might 
be  allowed  them.  Thus  she  was  as  much  be- 
loved and  admired  in  the  cabin  of  the  poor 
negro  as  she  was  in  her  uncle's  parlor,  where 
intelligence  and  refinement  were  assembled. 
This  same  character  she  displayed  through  the 
whole  of  her  career.  Josephine  upon  the  plan- 
tation and  Josephine  upon  the  throne — Jo- 
sephine surrounded  by  the  sable  maidens  of 
Martinique,  and  Josephine  moving  in  queenly 
splendor  in  the  palaces  of  Versailles,  with  all 
the  courtiers  of  Europe  revolving  around  her, 
displayed  the  same  traits  of  character,  and  by 
her  unaffected  kindness  won  the  hearts  alike  of 
the  lowly  and  of  the  exalted. 

About  this  time  an  occurrence  took  place 
which  has  attracted  far  more  attention  than  it 
deserves.  Josephine  was  one  day  walking 
under  the  shade  of  the  trees  of  the  plantation, 
when  she  saw  a number  of  negro  children  gath- 
ered around  an  aged  and  withered  negress,  who 
had  great  reputation  among  the  slaves  as  a 
fortune-teller.  Curiosity  induced  Josephine 


LIFE  IN  MARTINIQUE. 


15 


to  draw  near  the  group  to  hear  what  the  sorcer- 
ess had  to  say.  The  old  sibyl,  with  the  cun- 
ning which  is  characteristic  of  her  craft,  as  soon 
as  she  saw  Josephine  approach,  whom  she  knew 
perfectly,  assumed  an  air  of  great  agitation, 
and,  seizing  her  hand  violently,  gazed  with 
most  earnest  attention  upon  the  lines  traced 
upon  the  palm.  The  little  negresses  were  per- 
fectly awe-stricken  by  this  oracular  display. 
Josephine,  however,  was  only  amused,  and  smil- 
ing, said, 

“ So  you  discover  something  very  extraordi- 
nary in  my  destiny  ? " 

“Yes  !"  replied  the  negress,  with  an  air  of 
great  solemnity. 

“ Is  happiness  or  misfortune  to  be  my  lot  ?" 
Josephine  inquired. 

The  degress  again  gazed  upon  her  hand,  and 
then  replied,  “ Misfortune  ; " but,  after  a mo- 
ment's pause,  she  added,  “ and  happiness 
too." 

“ You  must  be  careful,  my  good  woman," 
Josephine  rejoined,  “not  to  commit  yourself. 
Your  predictions  are  not  very  intelligible." 

The  negress,  raising  her  eyes  with  an  expres- 
sion of  deep  mystery  to  heaven  rejoined,  “ I 
am  not  permitted  to  render  my  revelations 
more  clear." 

In  every  human  heart  there  is  a vein  of  cre- 
dulity. The  pretended  prophetess  had  now 


16 


JOSEPHINE. 


succeeded  in  fairly  arousing  the  curiosity  of 
Josephine,  who  eagerly  inquired,  “ What  do 
you  read  respecting  me  in  futurity  ? Tell  me 
exactly.” 

Again  the  negress,  assuming  an  air  of  pro- 
found solemnity,'  said,  “ You  will  not  believe 
me  if  I reveal  to  you  your  strange  destiny.” 

“ Yes,  indeed,  I assure  you  that  I will,”  Jo- 
sephine thoughtlessly  replied.  Come,  good 
mother,  do  tell  me  what  I have  to  hope  and 
what  to  fear.” 

“ On  your  own  head  be  it,  then.  Listen. 
You  will  soon  be  married.  That  union  will 
not  be  happy.  You  will  become  a widow,  and 
then  you  will  be  Queen  of  France.  Some 
happy  years  will  be  yours,  but  afterward  you 
will  die  in  a hospital,  amid  civil  commotions.” 

The  old  woman  then  hurried  away.  Jo- 
sephine talked  a few  moments  with  the  young 
negroes  upon  the  folly  of  this  pretended  for- 
tune-telling, and  leaving  them,  the  affair  passed 
from  her  mind.  In  subsequent  years,  when 
toiling  through  the  vicissitudes  of  her  most 
eventful  life,  she  recalled  the  singular  coinci- 
dence between  her  destiny  and  the  prediction, 
and  seemed  to  consider  that  the  negress,  with 
prophetic  vision,  had  traced  out  her  wonderful 
career. 

But  what  is  there  so  extraordinary  in  this 
narrative  ? What  maiden  ever  consulted  a 


Page  1 6.  THE  SIBYL. 


LIFE  IN  MARTINIQUE. 


17 


fortune-teller  without  receiving  the  agreeable 
announcement  that  she  was  to  wed  beauty,  and 
wealth,  and  rank  ? It  was  known  universally, 
and  it  was  a constant  subject  of  plantation  gos- 
sip, that  the  guardians  of  Josephine  were  con- 
templating a match  for  her  with  the  son  of  a 
neighboring  planter.  The  negroes  did  not  think 
him  half  worthy  of  their  adored  and  queenly 
Josephine.  They  supposed,  however,  that  the 
match  was  settled.  The  artful  woman  was 
therefore  compelled  to  allow  J osephine  to  marry 
at  first  the  undistinguished  son  of  the  planter 
with  whom  she  could  not  be  happy.  She,how- 
ever,  very  considerately  lets  the  unworthy  hus- 
band in  a short  time  die,  and  then  Josephine 
becomes  a queen.  This  is  the  old  story,  which 
has  been  repeated  to  half  the  maidens  in  Chris- 
tendom. It  is  not  very  surprising  that  in  this 
one  case  it  should  have  happened  to  prove 
true. 

But,  unfortunately,  our  prophetess  went  a 
little  farther,  and  predicted  that  Josephine 
would  die  in  a hospital — implying  poverty  and 
abandonment.  This  part  of  the  prediction 
proved  to  be  utterly  untrue.  Josephine,  in- 
stead of  dying  in  a hospital,  died  in  the  beauti- 
ful palace  of  Malmaison.  Instead  of  dying  in 
poverty,  she  was  one  of  the  richest  ladies  in 
Europe,  receiving  an  income  of  some  six  hundred 
thousand  dollars  a year.  The  grounds  around 
2 


18 


JOSEPHINE. 


her  palaee  were  •mbellished  with  all  the  attrac- 
tions, and  her  apartments  furnished  with  every 
luxury  which  opulence  could  provide.  Instead 
of  dying  in  friendlessness  and  neglect,  the  Em- 
peror Alexander  of  Russia  stood  at  her  bedside  ; 
the  most  illustrious  kings  and  nobles  of  Europe 
crowded  her  court  and  did  her  homage.  And 
though  she  was  separated  from  her  husband,  she 
still  retained  the  title  of  Empress,  and  was  the 
object  of  his  most  sincere  affection  and  esteem. 

Thus  this  prediction,  upon  which  so  much 
stress  has  been  laid,  seems  to  vanish  in  the  air. 
It  surely  is  not  a supernatural  event  that  a 
young  lady,  who  was  told  by  an  aged  negress 
that  she  would  be  a queen,  happened  actually 
to  become  one. 

We  have  alluded  to  a contemplated  match 
between  Josephine  and  the  son  of  a neighbor- 
ing planter.  An  English  family,  who  had  lost 
property  and  rank  in  the  convulsions  of  those 
times,  had  sought  a retreat  in  the  island  of  Mar- 
tinique, and  were  cultivating  an  adjoining  plan- 
tation. In  this  family  there  was  a very  pleas- 
ant lad,  a son,  of  nearly  the  same  age  with  Jo- 
sephine. The  plantations  being  near  to  each 
other,  they  were  often  companions  and  play- 
mates. A strong  attachment  grew  up  between 
them.  The  parents  of  William,  and  the  uncle 
and  aunt  of  Josephine,  approved  cordially  of 
this  attachment,  and  were  desirous  that  these 


LIFE  IN  MARTINIQUE. 


19 


youthful  hearts  should  be  united,  as  soon  as 
the  parties  should  arrive  at  mature  age.  Jo- 
sephine, in  the  ingenuous  artlessness  of  her 
nature,  disguised  not  in  the  least  her  strong 
affection  for  William.  And  his  attachment  to 
her  was  deep  and  enduring.  The  solitude  of 
their  lives  peculiarly  tended  to  promote  fervor 
of  character. 

Matters  were  in  this  state,  when  the  father  of 
William  received  an  intimation  from  England 
that,  by  returning  to  his  own  country,  he  might, 
perhaps,  regain  his  lost  estates.  He  immedi- 
ately prepared  to  leave  the  island  with  his  fam- 
ily. The  separation  was  a severe  blow  to  these 
youthful  lovers.  They  wept,  and  vowed  eternal 
fidelity. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  Josephine  should 
have  been  in  some  degree  superstitious.  The 
peculiarity  of  her  life  upon  the  plantation — her 
constant  converse  with  the  negroes,  whose 
minds  were  imbued  with  all  the  superstitious 
notions  which  they  had  brought  from  Africa, 
united  with  those  which  they  had  found  upon 
the  island,  tended  to  foster  those  feelings. 
Rousseau,  the  ftiost  popular  and  universally- 
read  French  writer  of  that  day,  in  his  celebrated 
“ Confessions,-”  records  with  perfect  composure 
that  he  was  one  day  sitting  in  a grove,  meditat- 
ing whether  his  soul  would  probably  be  saved 
or  lost.  He  felt  that  the  question  was  of  the 


20 


JOSEPHINE. 


utmost  importance.  How  could  he  escape  from 
the  uncertainty  ! A supernatural  voice  seemed 
to  suggest  an  appeal  to  a singular  kind  of  au- 
gury. “ I will/*  said  he,  “ throw  this  stone  at 
that  tree.  If  I hit  the  tree,  it  shall  be  a sign 
that  my  soul  is  to  be  saved.  If  I miss  it,  it 
shall  indicate  that  I am  to  be  lost.**  He  select- 
ed a large  tree,  took  the  precaution  of  getting 
very  near  to  it,  and  threw  his  stone  plump 
against  the  trunk.  “ After  that,**  says  the 
philosopher,  “ I never  again  had  a doubt  re- 
specting my  salvation.** 

Josephine  resorted  to  the  same  kind  of  au- 
gury to  ascertain  if  William,  who  had  become 
a student  in  the  University  at  Oxford,  still  re- 
mained faithful  to  her.  She  not  unfrequently 
attempted  to  beguile  a weary  hour  in  throwing 
pebbles  at  the  trees,  that  she  might  divine 
whether  William  were  then  thinking  of  her. 
Months,  however,  passed  away,  and  she  re- 
ceived no  tidings  from  him.  Though  she  had 
often  written,  her  letters  remained  unanswered 
Her  feelings  were  the  more  deeply  wounded, 
since  there  were  other  friends  upon  the  island 
with  whom  he  kept  up  a correspondence  ; but 
Josephine  never  received  even  a message 
through  them. 

One  day,  as  she  was  pensively  rambling  in  a 
grove,  where  she  had  often  walked  with  her  ab- 
sent lover,  she  found  carved  upon  a tree  the 


LIFE  IN  MARTINIQUE. 


21 


names  of  William  and  Josephine.  She  knew 
well  by  whose  hand  they  had  been  cut,,  and,  en- 
tirely overcome  with  emotion,  she  sat  down  and 
wept  bitterly.  With  the  point  of  a knife,  and 
with  a trembling  hand,  she  inscribed  in  the  bark 
these  words,  peculiarly  characteristic  of  her 
depth  of  feeling,  and  of  the  gentleness  of  her 
spirit  : “Unhappy  William  ! thou  hast  forgot- 
ten me  ! ” 

William,  however,  had  not  forgotten  her. 
Again  and  again  he  had  written  in  terms  of 
the  most  ardent  affection'.  But  the  friends  of 
Josephine,  meeting  with  an  opportunity  for  a 
match  for  her  which  they  deemed  far  more  ad- 
vantageous, had  destroyed  these  communica- 
tions, and  also  had  prevented  any  of  her  letters 
from  reaching  the  hand  of  William.  Thus  each, 
while  cherishing  the  truest  affection,  deemed  the 
other  faithless. 


22 


JOSEPHINE. 


CHAPTER  II.  ' 

THE  MARRIAGE  OF  JOSEPHINE. 

Josephine  was  about  fourteen  years  of  age 
when  she  was  separated  from  William.  A year 
passed  away,  during  which  she  received  not  a 
line  from  her  absent  friend.  About  this  time-8 
a gentleman  from  France  visited  her  uncle 
upon  business  of  great  importance.  Viscount 
Alexander  de  Beauharnais  was  a fashionable 
and  gallant  young  man,  about  thirty  years  of 
age,  possessing  much  conversational  ease  and 
grace  of  manner,  and  accustomed  to  the  most 
polished  society  of  the  French  metropolis.  He 
held  a commission  in  the  army,  and  had  already 
signalized  himself  by  several  acts  of  bravery. 
His  sympathies  had  been  strongly  aroused  by 
the  struggle  of  the  American  colonists  with  the 
mother  country,  and  he  had  already  aided  the 
colonists  both  with  his  sword  and  his  purse. 

Several  large  and  valuable  estates  in  Mar- 
tinique, adjoining  the  plantation  of  M.  Renau- 
din,  had  fallen  by  inheritance  to  this  young  offi- 
cer and  his  brother,  the  Marquis  of  Beauhar- 
nais. He  visited  Martinique  to  secure  the  proof 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  23 


of  his  title  to  these  estates.  M.  Kenaudin  held 
some  of  these  plantations  on  lease.  In  the 
transaction  of  this  business,  Beauharnais  spent 
much  time  at  the  mansion  of  M.  Kenaudin. 
He,  of  course,  saw  much  of  the  beautiful  Jo- 
sephine, and  was  fascinated  with  her  grace,  and 
her  mental  and  physical  loveliness. 

The  uncle  and  aunt  of  Josephine  were  de- 
lighted to  perceive  the  interest  which  their  niece 
had  awakened  in  the  bosom  of  the  interesting 
stranger.  His  graceful  figure,  his  accomplished 
person,  his  military  celebrity,  his  social  rank, 
and  his  large  fortune,  all  conspired  to  dazzle 
their  eyes,  and  to  lead  them  to  do  everything 
in  their  power  to  promote  a match  apparently 
so  eligible.  The  ambition  of  M.  Kenaudin  was 
moved  at  the  thought  of  conferring  upon  his 
niece,  the  prospective  heiress  of  his  own  fortune, 
an  estate  so  magnificent  as  the  united  inherit- 
ance. Josephine,  however,  had  not  yet  for- 
gotten William,  and,  though  interested  in  her 
uncle's  guest,  for  some  time  allowed  no  emotion 
of  love  to  flow  out  toward  him. 

One  morning  Josephine  was  sitting  in  the 
library  in  pensive  musings,  when  her  uncle 
came  into  the  room  to  open  to  her  the  subject 
of  her  contemplated  marriage  with  M.  Beau- 
harnais. Josephine  was  thunderstruck  at  the 
communication,  for,  according  to  the  invariable 
custom  of  the  times,  she  knew  that  she  could 


24 


JOSEPHINE. 


have  but  little  voice  in  the  choice  of  a partner 
for  life.  For  a short  time  she  listened  in 
silence  to  his  proposals,  and  then  said,  with 
tears  in  her  eyes, 

“ Dear  uncle,  I implore  you  to  remember 
that  my  affections  are  fixed  upon  William.  I 
have  been  solemnly  promised  to  him.” 

“ That  is  utterly  impossible,  my  child,”  her 
uncle  replied.  “ Circumstances  are  changed. 
All  our  hopes  are  centered  in  you.  You  must 
obey  our  wishes.” 

“And  why,”  said  she,  “have  you  changed 
your  intentions  in  reference  to  William  ?” 

Her  uncle  replied  : “Yon  will  receive  by  in- 
heritance all  my  estate.  M.  Beauharnais  pos- 
sesses the  rich  estates  adjoining.  Your  union 
unites  the  property.  M.  Beauharnais  is  every- 
thing which  can  be  desired  in  a husband.  Be- 
sides, William  appears  to  have  forgotten  you.” 
To  this  last  remark  Josephine  couid  make  no 
reply.  She  looked  sadly  upon  the  floor  and 
was  silent.  It  is  said  that  her  uncle  had  then 
in  his  possession  several  letters  which  William 
had  written  her,  replete  with  the  most  earnest 
spirit  of  constancy  and  affection. 

Josephine,  but  fifteen  years  of  age,  could  not, 
under  these  circumstances,  resist  the  influences 
now  brought  to  bear  upon  her.  M.  Beauhar- 
nais was  a gentleman  of  fascinating  accomplish- 
ments. The  reluctance  of  J osephine  to  become 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  25 

liis  bride  but  stimulated  his  zeal  to  obtain  her. 
In  the  seclusion  of  the  plantation,  and  far  re- 
moved from  other  society,  she  was  necessarily 
with  him  nearly  at  all  hours.  They  read  to- 
gether, rode  on  horseback  side  by  side,  rambled 
in  the  groves  in  pleasant  companionship.  They 
floated  by  moonlight  upon  the  water,  breathing 
the  balmy  air  of  that  delicious  clime,  and  unit- 
ing their  voices  in  song,  the  measure  being 
timed  with  the  dipping  of  the  oars  by  the  ne- 
groes. The  friends  of  Josephine  were  importu- 
nate for  the  match.  At  last,  reluctantly  she 
gave  her  consent.  Having  done  this,  she  al- 
lowed her  affections,  unrestrained,  to  repose 
upon  her  betrothed.  Though  her  heart  still 
clung  to  William,  she  thought  that  he  had  found 
other  friends  in  England,  in  whose  pleasant  com- 
panionship he  had  lost  all  remembrance  of  the 
island  maiden  who  had  won  his  early  love. 

Alexander  Beauharnais,  soon  after  his  en- 
gagement to  Josephine,  embarked  for  France. 
Arrangements  had  been  made  for  Josephine,  in 
the  course  of  a few  months,  to  follow  him,  upon 
a visit  to  a relative  in  Paris,  and  there  the  nup- 
tials were  to  be  consummated.  Josephine  was 
now  fifteen  years  of  age.  She  was  attached 
to  Beauharnais,  but  not  with  that  fervor  of 
feeling  which  had  previously  agitated  her  heart. 
She  often  thought  of  William  and  spoke  of  him, 
and  at  times  had  misgivings  lest  there  might 


26 


JOSEPHINE. 


be  some  explanation  of  his  silence.  But  months 
had  passed  on,  and  she  had  received  no  letter 
or  message  from  him. 

At  length  the  hour  for  her  departure  from 
the  island  arrived.  With  tearful  eyes  and  a sad- 
dened heart  she  left  the  land  of  her  birth,  and 
the  scenes  endeared  to  her  by  all  the  recollec- 
tions of  childhood.  Groups  of  negroes,  from 
the  tottering  infant  to  the  aged  man  of  gray 
hairs,  surrounded  her  with  weeping  and  loud 
lamentation.  Josephine  hastened  on  board,  the 
ship  got  under  way,  and  soon  the  island  of 
Martinique  disappeared  beneath  the  watery  ho- 
rizon. Josephine  sat  upon  the  deck  in  perfect 
silence,  watching  the  dim  outline  of  her  beloved 
home  till  it  was  lost  to  sight.  Her  young  heart 
was  full  of  anxiety,  of  tenderness,  and  of  regrets. 
Little,  however,  could  she  imagine  the  career 
of  strange  vicissitudes  upon  which  she  was 
about  to  enter. 

The  voyage  was  long  and  tempestuous. 
Storms  pursued  them  all  the  way.  At  one 
time  the  ship  was  dismasted  and  came  near 
foundering.  At  length  the  welcome  cry  of 
“ Land  ” was  heard,  and  Josephine,  an  unknown 
orphan  child  of  fifteen,  placed  her  feet  upon  the 
shores  of  France,  that  country  over  which  she 
was  soon  to  reign  the  most  renowned  empress. 
She  hastened  to  Fontainebleau,  and  was  there 
met  by  Alexander  Beauharnais.  He  received 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  27 

her  with  great  fondness,  and  was  assiduous  in 
bestowing  upon  her  the  most  flattering  atten- 
tions. But  Josephine  had  hardly  arrived  at  Fon- 
tainebleau before  she  heard  that  William  and 
his  father  were  also  residing  at  that  place.  Her 
whole  frame  trembled  like  an  aspen  leaf,  and 
her  heart  sunk  within  her  as  she  received  the 
intelligence.  All  her  long-cherished  affection 
for  the  companion  of  her  childhood  was  revived, 
and  still  she  knew  not  but  that  William  was 
faithless.  He,  however,  immediately  called, 
with  his  father,  to  see  her.  The  interview  was 
most  embarrassing,  for  each  loved  the  other  in- 
tensely, and  each  had  reason  to  believe  that  the 
other  had  proved  untrue.  The  next  day  Wil- 
liam called  alone  ; Josephine,  the  betrothed  bride 
of  Beauharnais,  prudently  declined  seeing  him. 
He  then  wrote  her  a letter,  which  he  bribed  a 
servant  to  place  in  her  hands,  full  of  protesta- 
tions of  love,  stating  how  he  had  written  to  her, 
and  passionately  inquiring  why  she  turned  so 
coldly  from  him. 

Josephine  read  the  letter  with  a bursting 
heart.  She  now  saw  how  she  had  been  de- 
ceived. She  now  was  convinced  that  Wil- 
liam had  proved  faithful  to  her,  notwith- 
standing he  had  so  much  reason  to  believe 
that  she  had  been  untrue  to  him.  But  what 
could  she  do  ? She  was  but  fifteen  years 
of  age.  She  was  surrounded  only  by  those 


28 


JOSEPHINE. 


who  were  determined  that  she  should  marry 
Alexander  Beauharnais.  She  was  told  that 
the  friends  of  William  had  decided  unalter- 
ably that  he  should  marry  an  English  heiress, 
and  that  the  fortunes  of  his  father’s  family 
were  dependent  upon  that  alliance.  The 
servant  who  had  been  the  bearer  of  William’s 
epistle  was  dismissed,  and  the  other  servants 
were  commanded  not  to  allow  him  to  enter 
the  house. 

The  agitation  of  Josephine’s  heart  was 
such  that  for  sometime  she  was  unable  to  leave 
her  bed.  She  entreated  her  friends  to  allow 
her  for  a few  months  to  retire  to  a convent, 
that  she  might,  in  solitary  thought  and 
prayer,  regain  composure.  Her  friends  con- 
sented to  this  arrangement,  and  she  took 
refuge  in  the  convent  at  Panthemont.  Here 
she  spent  a few  months  in  inexpressible  gloom. 
William  made  many  unavailing  efforts  to 
obtain  an  interview,  and  at  last,  in  despair, 
reluctantly  received  the  wealthy  bride,  through 
whom  he  secured  an  immense  inheritance,  and 
with  whom  he  passed  an  unloving  life. 

The  Viscount  Beauharnais  often  called  to 
see  her,  and  was  permitted  to  converse  with 
her  at  the  gate  of  her  window.  In  the  sim- 
plicity of  her  heart,  she  told  her  friends  at 
the  convent  of  her  attachment  for  William  ; 
how  they  had  been  reared  together,  and  how 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  29 


they  had  loved  from  childhood.  She  felt 
that  it  was  a cruel  fate  which  separated 
them,  but  a fate  before  which  each  must 
inevitably  bow.  At  last  she  calmly  made  up 
her  mind  to  comply  with  the  wishes  of  her 
friends,  and  to  surrender  herself  to  the  Vis- 
count Beauharnais.  There  was  much  in  the 
person  and  character  of  Beauharnais  to  ren- 
der him  very  attractive,  and  she  soon  be- 
came sincerely,  though  never  passionately, 
attached  to  him. 

Josephine  was  sixteen  years  of  age  when 
she  was  married.  Her  social  position  was  in 
the  midst  of  the  most  expensive  and  fash- 
ionable society  of  Paris.  She  was  immedi- 
ately involved  in  all  the  excitements  of 
parties,  and  balls,  and  gorgeous  entertain- 
ments. Her  beauty,  her  grace,  her  amiabil- 
ity, and  her  peculiarly  musical  voice,  which 
fell  like  a charm  upon  every  ear,  excited 
great  admiration  and  not  a little  envy.  It 
was  a dangerous  scene  into  which  to  intro- 
duce the  artless  and  inexperienced  Creole 
girl,  and  she  was  not  a little  dazzled  by  the 
splendor  with  which  she  was  surrounded. 
Everything  that  could  minister  to  conven- 
ience, or  that  could  gratify  taste,  .was  lav- 
ished profusely  around  her.  For  a time  she 
was  bewildered  by  the  novelty  of  her  situa- 
tion. But  soon  she  became  weary  of  the 


30 


JOSEPHINE. 


heartless  pageantry  of  fashionable  life,  and 
sighed  for  the  tranquil  enjoyments  of  her 
island  home. 

Her  husband,  proud  of  her  beauty  and 
accomplishments,  introduced  her  at  court. 
Maria  Antoinette,  who  had  then  just  as- 
cended the  throne,  and  was  in  the  brilliance 
of  her  youth,  and  beauty,  and  early  popu- 
larity, was  charmed  with  the  West  Indian 
bride,  and  received  her  without  the  for- 
mality of  a public  presentation.  When  these 
two  young  brides  met  in  the  regal  palace  of 
Versailles — the  one  a daughter  of  Maria 
Theresa  and  a descendant  of  the  Caesars  who 
had  come  from  the  court  of  Austria  to  be 
not  only  the  queen,  but  the  brightest  orna- 
ment of  the  court  of  France — the  other  the 
child  of  a planter,  born  upon  an  obscure  is- 
land, reared  in  the  midst  of  negr esses,  as 
almost  her  only  companions — little  did  they 
imagine  that  Maria  Antoinette  was  to  go 
down,  down,  down  to  the  lowest  state  of  igno- 
miny and  wo,  while  Josephine  was  to  ascend 
to  more  and  more  exalted  stations,  until  she 
should  sit  upon  a throne  more  glorious  than 
the  Caesars  ever  knew. 

French  philosophy  had  at  this  time  under- 
mined the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  All  that  is 
sacred  in  the  domestic  relations  was  wither- 
ing beneath  the  blight  of  infidelity.  Beau- 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  31 


harnais,  a man  of  fashion  and  of  the  world, 
had  imbibed,  to  the  full,  the  sentiments  which 
disgraced  the  age.  Marriage  was  deemed  a 
partnership,  to  be  formed  or  dissolved  at 
pleasure.  Fidelity  to  the  nuptial  tie  was  the 
jest  of  philosophers  and  witlings.  Josephine 
had  soon  the  mortification  of  seeing  a proud, 
beautiful,  and  artful  woman  taking  her  place 
and  openly  and  triumphantly  claiming  the  at- 
tentions and  the  affections  of  her  husband. 
This  woman,  high  in  rank,  loved  to  torture  her 
poor  victim.  “ Your  dear  Alexander,”  she 
said  to  Josephine,  “ daily  lavishes  upon  others 
the  tribute  of  attachment  which  you  think  he 
reserves  solely  for  you.”  She  could  not  bear 
to  see  the  beautiful  and  virtuous  Josephine 
happy,  as  the  honored  wife  of  her  guilty  lover, 
and  she  resolved,  if  possible,  to  sow  the  seeds 
of  jealousy  so  effectually  between  them  as  to 
secure  a separation. 

In  the  year  1780  Josephine  gave  birth  to  her 
daughter  Hortense.  This  event  seemed  for  a 
time  to  draw  back  the  wandering  affections  of 
Beauharnais.  He  was  really  proud  of  his  wife. 
He  admired  her  beauty  and  her  grace.  He 
doted  upon  his  infant  daughter.  But  he  was 
an  infidel.  He  recognized  no  law  of  God,  com- 
manding purity  of  heart  and  life,  and  he 
contended  that  Josephine  had  no  right  to 
complain,  as  long  as  he  treated  her  kindly,  if 


32 


JOSEPHINE. 


lie  did  indulge  in  the  waywardness  of  pas- 
sion. 

The  path  of  Josephine  was  now,  indeed, 
shrouded  in  gloom,  and  eacli  day  seemed  to 
grow  darker  and  darker.  Ilortense  became  her 
idol  and  her  only  comfort.  Her  husband  lav- 
ished upon  her  those  luxuries  which  his  wealth 
enabled  him  to  grant.  He  was  kind  to  her  in 
words  and  in  all  the  ordinary  courtesies  of  in- 
tercourse. But  Josephine’s  heart  was  well-nigh 
broken.  A few  years  of  conflict  passed  slowly 
away,  when  she  gave  birth,  in  the  year  1783, 
to  her  son  Eugene.  In  the  society  of  her  chil- 
dren the  unhappy  mother  found  now  her  only 
solace. 

While  the  Viscount  Beauharnais  was  ready 
to  defend  his  own  conduct,  he  was  by  no  means 
willing  that  his  wife  should  govern  herself  by 
the  same  principles  of  fashionable  philosophy. 
The  code  infidel  is  got  up  for  the  especial  ben- 
efit of  dissolute  men  ; their  wives  must  be  gov- 
erned by  another  code.  The  artful  woman, 
who  was  the  prime  agent  in  these  difficulties, 
affected  great  sympathy  with  Josephine  in  her 
sorrows,  protested  her  own  entire  innocence, 
but  assured  her  that  M.  Beauharnais  was  an  in- 
grate, entirely  unworthy  of  her  affections.  She 
deceived  Josephine,  hoarded  up  the  confidence 
of  her  stricken  heart,  and  conversed  with  her 
about  William , the  memory  of  whose  faithful 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  33 

love  now  came  with  new  freshness  to  the  dis- 
consolate wife. 

Josephine,  lured  by  her,  wrote  a letter  to  her 
friends  in  Martinique,  in  which  she  imprudently 
said,  “ Were  it  not  for  my  children,  I should, 
without  a pang,  renounce  France  forever.  My 
duty  requires  me  to  forget  William ; and  yet, 
if  we  had  been  united  together,  I should  not 
to-day  have  been  troubling  you  with  my  griefs.” 

The  woman  who  instigated  her  to  write  this 
letter  was  infamous  enough  to  obtain  it  by 
stealth  and  show  it  to  Beauharnais.  His  jeal- 
ousy and  indignation  were  immediately  aroused 
to  the  highest  pitch.  He  was  led  by  this  ma- 
licious deceiver  to  believe  that  Josephine  had 
obtained  secret  interviews  with  William,  and 
the  notorously  unfaithful  husband  was  exas- 
perated to  the  highest  degree  at  the  very  sus- 
picion of  the  want  of  fidelity  in  his  wife.  He 
reproached  her  in  language  of  the  utmost  se- 
verity, took  Eugene  from  her,  and  resolved  to 
endeavor,  by  legal  process,  to  obtain  an  entire 
divorce.  She  implored  him,  for  the  sake  of  her 
children,  not  to  proclaim  their  difficulties  to  the 
world.  He,  however,  reckless  of  consequences, 
made  application  to  the  courts  for  the  annul- 
ment of  the  matrimonial  bond.  Josephine  was 
now  compelled  to  defend  her  own  character. 
She  again  retired  with  Hortense  to  the  convent, 
and  there,  through  dreary  months  of  solitude, 
3 


/ 


34  JOSEPHINE. 

and  silence,  and  dejection,  awaited  the  result 
of  the  trial  upon  which  her  reputation  as  a vir- 
tuous woman  was  staked.  The  decree  of  the 
court  was  triumphantly  in  her  favor,  and  Jo- 
sephine returned  to  her  friends  to  receive  their 
congratulations,  but  impressed  with  the  convic- 
tion that  earth  had  no  longer  a joy  in  the  store 
for  her.  Her  friends  did  all  in  their  power  to 
cheer  her  desponding  spirit ; but  the  wound 
she  had  received  was  too  deep  to  be  speedily 
healed.  One  day  her  friends,  to  divert  her  mind 
from  brooding  over  irreparable  sorrows,  took 
her,  almost  by  violence,  to  Versailles.  They 
passed  over  the  enchanting  grounds,  and 
through  the  gorgeously-furnished  apartments  of 
the  Great  and  Little  Trianon,  the  favorite 
haunts  of  Maria  Antoinette.  Here  the  beauti- 
ful Queen  of  France  was  accustomed  to  lay  aside 
the  pageantry  of  royalty,  and  to  enjoy,  with- 
out restraint,  the  society  of  those  who  were 
dear  to  her.  Days  of  darkness  and  trouble  had 
already  begun  to  darken  around  her  path.  As 
Josephine  was  looking  at  some  of  the  works  of 
art,  she  was  greatly  surprised  at  the  entrance 
of  the  queen,  surrounded  by  several  ladies  of 
her  court.  Maria  Antoinette  immediately  rec- 
ognized Josephine,  and  with  that  air  of  af- 
fability and  kindness  which  ever  characterized 
her  conduct,  she  approached  her,  and,  with  one 
of  her  winning  smiles,  said,  “ Madame  Beau- 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  35 


harnais,  I am  very  happy  to  see  you  at  the  two 
Trianons.  You  well  know  how  to  appreciate 
their  beauties.  I should  be  much  pleased  to 
learn  what  objects  you  consider  most  interest- 
ing. I shall  always  receive  you  with  pleasure.” 

These  words  from  the  queen  were  an  un- 
speakable solace  to  Josephine.  Her  afflicted 
heart  needed  the  consolation.  The  queen  was 
acquainted  with  her  trials,  and  thus  nobly  as- 
sured her  of  her  sympathy  and  her  confidence. 
In  a few  days  Maria  Antoinette  invited  Jose- 
phine to  a private  interview.  She  addressed 
her  in  words  of  the  utmost  kindness,  promised 
to  watch  over  the  interests  of  her  son,  and  at 
the  same  time,  as  a mark  of  her  especial  regard, 
she  took  from  her  neck  an  antique  ornament  of 
precious  stones,  and  passed  it  over  the  neck  of 
Josephine.  The  king  also  himself  came  in  at 
the  interview,  for  his  heart  had  been  softened 
by  sorrow,  and  addressed  words  of  consolation 
to  the  injured  and  discarded  wife. 

Josephine  now  received  letters  from  Marti- 
nique earnestly  entreating  her  to  return,  with 
her  children,  to  the  home  of  her  childhood. 
World-weary,  she  immediately  resolved  to  ac- 
cept the  invitation.  But  the  thought  of  cross- 
ing the  wide  ocean,  and  leaving  her  son  Eugene 
behind,  was  a severe  pang  to  a mother’s  heart. 
Eugene  had  been  taken  from  her  and  sent  to  a 
boarding-school.  Josephine  felt  so  deeply  the 


36 


JOSEPHINE. 


pang  of  separation  from  her  beloved  child,  that 
she  obtained  an  interview  with  M.  Beauharnais, 
and  implored  him  to  allow  her  to  take  Eugene 
with  her.  He  gave  a cold  and  positive  refusal. 

A few  days  after  this,  Josephine,  cruelly 
separated  from  her  husband  and  bereaved  of 
her  son,  embarked  with  Hortense  for  Marti- 
nique. She  strove  to  maintain  that  aspect  of 
cheerfulness  and  of  dignity  which  an  injured 
but  innocent  woman  is  entitled  to  exhibit. 
When  dark  hours  of  despondency  overshadowed 
her,  she  tried  to  console  herself  with  the 
beautiful  thought  of  Plautus  : “ If  we  support 
adversity  with  courage,  we  shall  have  a keener 
relish  for  returning  prosperity.”  It  does  not 
appear  that  she  had  any  refuge  in  the  consola- 
tions of  religion.  She  had  a vague  and  general 
idea  of  the  goodness  of  a superintending  Provi- 
dence, but  she  was  apparently  a stranger  to 
those  warm  and  glowing  revelations  of  Chris- 
tianity which  introduce  us  to  a sympathizing 
Saviour,  a guiding  and  consoling  Spirit,  a loving 
and  forgiving  Father.  Could  she  then,  by 
faith,  have  reposed  her  aching  head  upon  the 
bosom  of  her  heavenly  Father,  she  might  have 
found  a solace  such  as  nothing  else  could  con- 
fer. But  at  this  time  nearly  every  mind  in 
France  was  more  or  less  darkened  by  the  glooms 
of  infidelity. 

The  winds  soon  drove  her  frail  bark  across 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  JOSEPHINE.  37 

the  Atlantic,  and  Josephine,  pale  and  sorrow- 
stricken,  was  clasped  in  the  arms  and  folded  to 
the  hearts  of  those  who  truly  loved  her.  The 
affectionate  negroes  gathered  around  her,  with 
loud  demonstrations  of  their  sympathy  and 
their  joy  in  again  meeting  their  mistress. 
Here,  amid  the  quiet  scenes  endeared  to  her 
by  the  recollections  of  childhood,  she  found  a 
temporary  respite  from  those  storms  by  which 
she  had  been  so  severely  tossed  upon  life’s  wild 
and  tempestuous  ocean. 


38 


JOSEPHINE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ARREST  OF  M.  BEAUHARNAIS  AND  JOSEPHINE. 

Josephine  remained  in  Martinique  three 
years.  She  passed  her  time  in  tranquil  sad- 
ness, engaged  in  reading,  in  educating  Hortense, 
and  in  unwearied  acts  of  kindness  to  those 
around  her.  Like  all  noble  minds,  she  had  a 
great  fondness  for  the  beauties  of  nature.  The 
luxuriant  groves  of  the  tropics,  the  serene  skies 
which  overarched  her  head,  the  gentle  zephyrs 
which  breathed  through  orange  groves,  all  were 
congenial  with  her  pensive  spirit.  The  thought 
of  Eugene,  her  beautiful  boy,  so  far  from  her, 
preyed  deeply  upon  her  heart.  Often  she  re- 
tired alone  to  some  of  those  lonely  walks  which 
she  loved  so  well,  and  wept  over  her  alienated 
husband  and  her  lost  child. 

M.  Beauharnais  surrendered  himself  for  a 
time,  without  restraint,  to  every  indulgence. 
He  tried,  in  the  society  of  sin  and  shame,  to 
forget  his  wife  and  his  absent  daughter.  He, 
however,  soon  found  that  no  friend  can  take 
the  place  of  a virtuous  and  an  affectionate  ^vife. 


ARREST  OF  JOSEPHINE. 


39 


The  memory  of  Josephine's  gentleness,  and 
tenderness,  and  love  came  flooding  back  upon 
his  heart.  He  became  fully  convinced  of  his 
injustice  to  her,  and  earnestly  desired  to  have 
her  restored  again  to  him  and  to  his  home.  He 
sent  communications  to  Josephine,  expressive 
of  his  deep  regret  for  the  past,  promising 
amendment  for  the  future,  assuring  her  of  his 
high  appreciation  of  her  elevated  and  honorable 
character,  and  imploring  her  to  return  with 
Hortense,  thus  to  reunite  the  divided  and  sor- 
row-stricken household.  It  was  indeed  a grati- 
fication to  Josephine  to  receive  from  her  hus- 
band the  acknowledgment  that  she  had  never 
ceased  to  deserve  his  confidence.  The  thought 
of  again  pressing  Eugene  to  her  bosom  filled  a 
mother's  heart  with  rapture.  Still,  the  griefs 
which  had  weighed  upon  her  were  so  heavy, 
that  she  confessed  to  her  friends  that,  were  it 
not  for  the  love  which  she  bore  Eugene,  she 
would  greatly  prefer  to  spend  the  remnant  of 
her  days  upon  her  favorite  island.  Her  friends 
did  everything  in  their  power  to  dissuade  her 
from  leaving  Martinique.  But  a mother’s  un- 
dying love  triumphed,  and  again  she  embarked 
for  France. 

In  subsequent  years,  when  surrounded  by 
all  the  splendors  of  royalty,  she  related  to  some 
of  the  ladies  of  her  court,  with  that  unaffected 
simplicity  which  ever  marked  her  character, 


40 


JOSEPHINE. 


the  following  incident,  which  occurred  during 
this  voyage.  The  ladies  were  admiring  some 
brilliant  jewels  which  were  spread  out  before 
them.  Josephine  said  to  them,  “ My  young 
friends,  believe  me,  splendor  does  not  consti- 
tute happiness.  I at  one  time  received  greater 
enjoyment  from  the  gift  of  a pair  of  old  shoes 
than  all  these  diamonds  have  ever  afforded  me.” 
The  curiosity  of  her  auditors  was,  of  course, 
greatly  excited,  and  they  entreated  her  to  ex- 
plain her  meaning. 

“Yes,  young  ladies,”  Josephine  continued, 
“ of  all  the  presents  I ever  received,  the  one 
which  gave  me  the  greatest  pleasure  was  a pair 
of  old  shoes , and  those , too,  of  coarse  leather . 
When  I last  returned  to  France  from  Marti- 
nique, having  separated  from  my  first  husband, 
I was  far  from  rich.  The  passage-money  ex- 
hausted my  resources,  and  it  was  not  without 
difficulty  that  I obtained  the  indispensable  re- 
quisites for  our  voyage.  Hortense,  obliging 
and  lively,  performing  with  much  agility  the 
dances  of  the  negroes,  and  singing  their  songs 
with  surprising  correctness,  greatly  amused  the 
sailors,  who,  from  being  her  constant  play- 
fellows, had  become  her  favorite  society.  An 
old  sailor  became  particularly  attached  to  the 
child,  and  she  doted  upon  the  old  man.  What 
with  running,  leaping,  and  walking,  my  daugh- 
ter's slight  shoes  were  fairly  worn  out.  Know- 


ARREST  OF  JOSEPHINE. 


41 


ing  that  she  had  not  another  pair,  and  fearing 
I would  forbid  her  going  upon  deck,  should 
this  defect  in  her  attire  be  discovered,  Hor- 
tense  carefully  concealed  the  disaster.  One 
day  I experienced  the  distress  of  seeing  her 
return  from  the  deck  leaving  every  foot-mark 
in  blood.  W hen  examining  how  matters  stood, 
I found  her  shoes  literally  in  tatters,  and  her 
feet  dreadfully  torn  by  a nail.  We  were  as  yet 
not  more  than  half  way  across  the  ocean,  and 
it  seemed  impossible  to  procure  another  pair  of 
shoes.  I felt  quite  overcome  at  the  idea  of  the 
sorrow  my  poor  Hortense  would  suffer,  as  also 
at  the  danger  to  which  her  health  might  be 
exposed  by  confinement  in  my  miserable  little 
cabin.  At  this  moment  our  good  friend,  the 
old  sailor,  entered  and  inquired  the  cause  of 
our  distress.  Hortense,  sobbing  all  the  while, 
eagerly  informed  him  that  she  could  no  more 
go  upon  deck,  for  her  shoes  were  worn  out, 
and  mamma  had  no  others  to  give  her.  ‘ Non- 
sense/said  the  worthy  seaman,  ‘ is  that  all,? 
I have  an  old  pair  somewhere  in  my  chest ; I 
will  go  and  seek  them.  You,  madam,  can  cut 
them  to  shape,  and  I will  splice  them  up  as  well 
as  need  be/  Without  waiting  for  a reply, 
away  hastened  the  kind  sailor  in  search  of  his 
old  shoes  ; these  he  soon  after  brought  to 
us  with  a triumphant  air,  and  they  were  re- 
ceived by  Hortense  with  demonstrations  of  the 


42 


JOSEPHINE. 


most  lively  joy.  We  set  to  work  with  all  zeal, 
and  before  the  day  closed  my  daughter  could 
resume  her  delightful  duties  of  supplying  their 
evening’s  diversion  to  the  crew.  I again  repeat, 
never  was  present  received  with  greater  thank- 
fulness. It  has  since  often  been  matter  of  self- 
reproach  that  I did  not  particularly  inquire 
into  the  name  and  history  of  our  benefactor. 
It  would  have  been  gratifying  for  me  to  have 
done  something  for  him  when  afterward  means 
were  in  my  power.” 

Poor  Hortense  ! most  wonderful  were  the 
vicissitudes  of  her  checkered  and  joyless  life. 
We  here  meet  her,  almost  an  infant,  in  poverty 
and  obscurity.  The  mother  and  child  arrive  in 
Paris  on  the  morning  of  that  Reign  of  Terror, 
the  story  of  which  has  made  the  ear  of  humanity 
to  tingle.  Hortense  is  deprived  of  both  her 
parents,  and  is  left  in  friendlessness  and  beg- 
gary in  the  streets  of  Paris.  A charitable 
neighbor  cherished  and  fed  her.  Her  mother 
is  liberated,  and  married  to  Napoleon  ; and 
Hortense,  as  daughter  of  the  emperor,  is  sur- 
rounded with  dazzling  splendor,  such  as  earth 
has  seldom  witnessed.  We  now  meet  Hortense, 
radiant  in  youthful  beauty,  one  of  the  most 
admired  and  courted  in  the  midst  of  the  glit- 
tering throng,  which,  like  a fairy  vision,  dazzles 
all  eyes  in  the  gorgeous  apartments  of  Ver- 
sailles and  St.  Cloud.  Her  person  is  adorned 


ARREST  OF  JOSEPHINE. 


43 


with  the  most  costly  fabrics  and  the  most  bril- 
liant gems  which  Europe  can  afford.  The 
nobles  and  princes  of  the  proudest  courts  vie 
with  each  other  for  the  honor  of  her  hand. 
She  is  led  to  her  sumptuous  bridals  by  Louis 
Bonaparte,  brother  of  the  emperor  ; becomes 
the  spouse  of  a king,  and  takes  her  seat  upon 
the  throne  of  Holland.  But  in  the  midst  of  all 
this  external  splendor  she  is  wretched  at  heart. 
Not  one  congenial  feeling  unites  her  with  the 
companion  to  whom  she  is  bound.  Louis, 
weary  of  regal  pomp  and  constraint,  abdicates 
the  throne,  and  Hortense  becomes  unendurably 
weary  of  her  pensive  and  unambitious  spouse. 
They  agree  to  separate  ; each  to  journey  along, 
unattended  by  the  other,  the  remainder  of  life’s 
pilgrimage.  Hortense  seeks  a joyless  refuge  in 
a secluded  castle,  in  one  of  the  most  retired 
valleys  of  Switzerland.  The  tornado  of  coun- 
ter-revolution sweeps  over  Europe,  and  all  her 
exalted  friends  and  towering  hopes  are  pros- 
trated in  the  dust.  Lingering  years  of  disap- 
pointment and  sadness  pass  over  her,  and  old 
age,  with  its  infirmities,  places  her  upon  a dy- 
ing bed.  One  only  child,  Louis  Napoleon, 
since  President  of  the  French  Republic,  the 
victim  of  corroding  ambition  and  ceaselessly- 
gnawing  discontent,  stands  at  her  bedside  to 
close  her  eyes,  and  to  follow  her,  a solitary  and 
lonely  mourner,  to  the  grave.  The  dream  of 


44 


JOSEPHINE. 


life  lias  passed.  The  shadow  has  vanished 
away.  Who  can  fathom  the  mystery  of  the 
creation  of  such  a drama  ? 

Josephine  arrived  in  France.  She  was  re- 
ceived most  cordially  by  her  husband.  Sorrow- 
ful experience  had  taught  him  the  value  of  a 
home,  and  the  worth  of  a pure  and  a sanctified 
love.  Josephine  again  folded  her  idolized  Eu- 
gene in  her  arms,  and  the  anguish  of  past  years 
was  forgotten  in  the  blissful  enjoyments  of 
a reunited  family.  These  bright  and  happy 
days  were,  however,  soon  again  clouded.  The 
French  Revolution  was  now  in  full  career.  The 
king  and  queen  were  in  prison.  All  law  was 
prostrate.  M.  Beauharnais,  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  Revolution,  had  most  cordially 
espoused  the  cause  of  popular  liberty.  He 
stood  by  the  side  of  La  Fayette  a companion 
and  a supporter.  His  commanding  character 
gave  him  great  influence.  He  was  elected  a 
deputy  to  the  Constituent  Assembly,  and  took 
an  active  part  in  its  proceedings.  Upon  the 
dissolution  of  this  Assembly,  or  States-General , 
as  it  was  also  called,  as  by  vote  none  of  its 
members  were  immediately  re-eligible,  he  re- 
tired again  to  the  army  ; but  when  the  second 
or  Legislative  Assembly  was  dissolved  and  the 
National  Convention  was  formed,  he  was  re- 
turned as  a member,  and  at  two  successive 
sessions  was  elected  its  president. 


ARREST  OF  JOSEPHINE. 


45 


The  people,  having  obtained  an  entire  victory 
over  monarchy  and  aristocracy,  beheaded  the 
king  and  queen,  and  drove  the  nobles  from  the 
realm.  France  was  now  divided  into  two  great 
parties.  The  Jacobins  were  so  called  from  an 
old  cloister  in  which  they  at  first  held  their 
meetings.  All  of  the  lowest,  most  vicious,  and 
the  reckless  of  the  nation  belonged  to  this 
party.  They  seemed  disposed  to  overthrow  all 
law,  human  and  divine.  Marat,  Danton,  and 
Robespierre  were  the  blood-stained  leaders  of 
this  wild  and  furious  faction.  The  Girondists, 
their  opponents,  were  so  called  from  the  depart- 
ment of  the  Gironde,  from  which  most  of  the 
leaders  of  this  party  came.  They  wished  for  a 
republic  like  that  of  the  United  States,  where 
there  should  be  the  protection  of  life,  and  prop- 
erty, and  liberty,  with  healthy  laws  sacredly 
enforced. 

The  conflict  between  the  two  parties  was 
long  and  terrible.  The  Jacobins  gained  the 
victory,  and  the  Girondists  were  led  to  the 
guillotine.  M.  Beauharnais  was  an  active 
member  of  the  Girondist  party,  of  which  Ma- 
dame Roland  was  the  soul,  and  he  perished  with 
them.  Many  of  the  Girondists  sought  safety 
in  concealment  and  retreat.  M.  Beauharnais, 
conscious  of  his  political  integrity,  proudly  re- 
fused to  save  hife  life  by  turning  his  back  upon 
his  foes. 


46 


JOSEPHINE. 


One  morning  Josephine  was  sitting  in  her 
parlor,  in  a state  of  great  anxiety  in  reference 
to  the  fearful  commotion  of  the  times,  when  a 
servant  announced  that  some  one  wished  to 
speak  to  her.  A young  man  of  very  gentle  and 
prepossessing  appearance  was  introduced,  with 
a bag  in  his  hand,  in  which  were  several  pairs 
of  shoes. 

“ Citizen,”  said  the  man  to  Josephine,  “ I 
understand  that  you  want  socks  of  plum 
gray.” 

Josephine  looked  up  in  surprise,  hardly  com- 
prehending his  meaning,  when  he  approached 
nearer  to  her,  and,  in  an  under  tone,  whispered, 
“ I have  something  to  impart  to  you,  ma- 
dame.” 

“Explain  yourself,”  she  eagerly  replied, 
much  alarmed  ; “ my  servant  is  faithful.” 
“Ah!”  he  exclaimed,  “my  life  is  at  stake 
in  this  matter.” 

“ Go,  Victorine,”  said  Josephine  to  her  ser- 
vant, “ and  call  my  husband.” 

As  soon  as  they  were  alone,  the  young  man 
said,  “ There  is  not  a moment  to  lose  if  you 
would  save  M.  Beauharnais.  The  Revolution- 
ary Committee  last  night  passed  a resolution 
to  have  him  arrested,  and  at  this  very  moment 
the  warrant  is  making  out.” 

“ How  know  you  this  ? ” she  demanded, 
trembling  violently. 


Page  46.  THE  WARNING. 


ARREST  OF  JOSEPHINE. 


47 


“ I am  one  of  the  Committee/'  was  the  reply, 
“and,  being  a shoemaker,  I thought  these  shoes 
would  afford  me  a reasonable  pretext  for  ad- 
vertising you,  madame." 

At  this  moment  M.  Beauharnais  entered  the 
room,  and  Josephine,  weeping,  threw  herself 
into  his  arms.  “You  see  my  husband,"  she 
said  to  the  shoemaker. 

“ I have  the  honor  of  knowing  him,"  was  the 
reply. 

M.  Beauharnais  wished  to  reward  the  young 
man  on  the  spot  for  his  magnanimous  and  per- 
ilous deed  of  kindness.  The  offer  was  respect- 
fully but  decisively  declined.  To  the  earnest 
entreaties  of  Josephine  and  the  young  man  that 
he  should  immediately  secure  his  safety  by  his 
flight  or  concealment,  he  replied, 

“ I will  never  flee  ; with  what  can  they  charge 
me  ? I love  liberty.  I have  borne  arms  for  the 
Revolution." 

“ But  you  are  a noble,"  the  young  man  re- 
joined, “ and  that,  in  the  eye  of  the  Revolution- 
ists, is  a crime — an  unpardonable  crime.  And, 
moreover,  they  accuse  you  of  having  been  a 
member  of  the  Constitutional  Assembly." 

“ That,"  said  M.  Beauharnais,  “ is  my  most 
honorable  title  to  glory.  Who  would  not  be 
proud  of  having  proclaimed  the  rights  of  the 
nation,  the  fall  of  despotism,  and  the  reign  of 
laws  ? " 


48 


JOSEPHINE. 


“ What  laws  !”  exclaimed  Josephine.  “ It 
is  in  blood  they  are  written.” 

“ Madame,”  exclaimed  the  philanthropic 
young  Jacobin,  with  a tone  of  severity,  “ when 
the  tree  of  liberty  is  planted  in  an  unfriendly 
soil,  it  must  be  watered  with  the  blood  of  its 
enemies.”  Then,  turning  to  M.  Beauharnais, 
he  said,  “Within  an  hour  it  will  no  longer  be 
possible  to  escape.  I wished  to  save  you,  be- 
cause I believe  you  innocent.  Such  was  my 
duty  to  humanity.  But  if  I am  commanded  to 
arrest  you — pardon  me — I shall  do  my  duty  ; 
and  you  will  acknowledge  the  patriot.” 

The  young  shoemaker  withdrew,  and  Jose- 
phine in  vain  entreated  her  husband  to  attempt 
his  escape.  “Whither  shall  I flee  ?”  he  an- 
swered. “Is  there  a vault,  a garret,  a hiding- 
place  into  which  the  eye  of  the  tyrant  Robes- 
pierre does  not  penetrate  ? We  must  yield.  If 
I am  condemned,  how  can  I escape  ? If  I am 
not  condemned,  I have  nothing  to  fear.” 

About  two  hours  elapsed  when  three  mem- 
bers of  the  Revolutionary  Committee,  accom- 
panied by  a band  of  armed  men,  broke  into  the 
house.  The  young  shoemaker  was  one  of  this 
committee,  and  with  firmness,  but  with  much 
urbanity,  he  arrested  M.  Beauharnais.  Jose- 
phine, as  her  husband  was  led  to  prison,  was 
left  in  her  desolated  home.  And  she  found 
herself  indeed  deserted  and  alone.  No  one 


ARREST  OP  JOSEPHINE. 


49 


could  then  manifest  any  sympathy  with  the 
proscribed  without  periling  life.  Josephine’s 
friends,  one  by  one,  all  abandoned  her.  The 
young  shoemaker  alone,  who  had  arrested  her 
husband,  continued  secretly  to  call  with  words 
of  sympathy. 

Josephine  made  great  exertions  to  obtain  the 
release  of  her  husband,  and  was  also  unwearied 
in  her  benefactions  to  multitudes  around  her 
who,  in  those  days  of  lawlessness  and  of  an- 
guish, were  deprived  of  property,  of  friends, 
and  of  home.  The  only  solace  she  found  in  her 
own  grief  was  in  ministering  to  the  consola- 
tion of  others.  Josephine,  from  the  kindest  of 
motives,  but  very  injudiciously,  deceived  her 
children  in  reference  to  their  father’s  arrest, 
and  led  them  to  suppose  that  he  was  absent 
from  home  in  consequence  of  ill  health.  When 
at  last  she  obtained  permission  to  visit,  with  her 
children,  her  husband  in  prison,  they  detected 
the  deceit.  After  returning  from  the  prison 
after  their  first  interview,  Hortense  remarked 
to  her  mother  that  she  thought  her  father’s 
apartment  very  small,  and  the  patients  very  nu- 
merous. She  appeared  for  a time  very  thought- 
ful, and  then  inquired  of  Eugene,  with  an 
anxious  expression  of  countenance, 

“ Do  you  believe  that  papa  is  ill  ? If  he  is, 
it  certainly  is  not  the  sickness  which  the  doctors 
cure.” 

4 


60 


JOSEPHINE. 


“ What  do  you  mean,  my  dear  child  ? ” asked 
Josephine.  “ Can  you  suppose  that  papa  and 
I would  contrive  between  us  to  deceive  you  ? ” 

“Pardon  me,  mamma,  but  I do  think  so.” 

“Why,  sister,”  exclaimed  Eugene,  “how 
can  you  say  so  ? ” 

“ Good  parents, 9 she  replied,  “are  unques- 
tionably permitted  to  deceive  their  children 
when  they  wish  to  spare  them  uneasiness.  Is 
it  not  so,  mamma  ? ” 

Josephine  was  not  a little  embarrassed  by  this 
detection,  and  was  compelled  to  acknowledge 
that  which  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  conceal. 

In  the  interview  which  M.  Beauharnais  held 
with  his  wife  and  his  children,  he  spoke  with 
some  freedom  to  his  children  of  the  injustice  of 
his  imprisonment.  This  sealed  his  doom.  List- 
eners, who  were  placed  in  an  adjoining  room  to 
note  down  his  words,  reported  the  conversation, 
and  magnified  it  into  a conspiracy  for  the  over- 
throw of  the  republic.  M.  Beauharnaias  was 
immediately  placed  in  close  confinement.  Jo- 
sephine herself  was  arrested  and  plunged  into 
prison,  and  even  the  terrified  children  were 
rigidly  examined  by  a brutal  committee,  who, 
by  promises  and  by  threats,  did  what  they 
could  to  extort  from  them  some  confession 
which  would  lead  to  the  conviction  of  their 
parents. 

Josephine,  the  morning  of  her  arrest,  received 


ARREST  OF  JOSEPHINE.  51 

an  anonymous  letter,  warning  her  of  her  dan- 
ger. It  was  at  an  early  hour,  and  her  children 
were  asleep  in  their  beds.  But  how  could  she 
escape  ? Where  could  she  go  ? Should  she 
leave  her  children  behind  her — a mother 
abandon  her  children  ! Should  she  take  them 
with  her,  and  thus  prevent  the  possibility  of 
eluding  arrest  ? Would  not  her  attempt  at 
flight  be  construed  into  a confession  of  guilt,  and 
thus  compromise  the  safety  of  her  hus- 
band ? While  distracted  with  these  thoughts, 
she  heard  a loud  knocking  and  clamor  at  the 
outer  door  of  the  house.  She  understood  too 
well  the  significance  of  those  sounds.  With  a 
great  effort  to  retain  a tranquil  spirit,  she  passed 
into  the  room  where  her  children  were  sleep- 
ing. As  she  fixed  her  eyes  upon  them,  so 
sweetly  lost  in  slumber,  and  thought  of  the 
utter  abandonment  to  which  they  were  doomed 
her  heart  throbbed  with  anguish,  and  tears,  of 
such  bitterness  as  are  seldom  shed  upon  earth, 
filled  her  eyes.  She  bent  over  her  daughter, 
and  imprinted  a mother’s  farewell  kiss  upon 
her  forehead.  The  affectionate  child,  though 
asleep,  clasped  her  arms  around  her  mother’s 
neck,  and,  speaking  the  thoughts  of  the  dream 
passing  through  her  mind,  said,  “ Gome  to 
bed.  Fear  nothing.  They  shall  not  take  you 
away  this  night.  I have  prayed  to  God  for  you.” 
The  tumult  in  the  outer  hall  continually  in- 


52 


JOSEPHINE. 


creasing,  Josephine,  fearful  of  awaking  Hor- 
tense  and  Eugene,  cast  a last  lingering  look  of 
love  upon  them,  and,  withdrawing  from  the 
chamber,  closed  the  door  and  entered  her  parlor. 
There  she  found  a band  of  armed  men,  headed 
by  the  brutal  wretch  who  had  so  unfeelingly 
examined  her  children.  The  soldiers  were 
hardened  against  every  appeal  of  humanity,  and 
performed  their  unfeeling  office  without  any 
emotion,  save  that  of  hatred  for  one  whom  they 
deemed  to  be  an  aristocrat.  They  seized  Jose- 
phine rudely,  and  took  possession  of  all  the 
property  in  the  house  in  the  name  of  the  Re- 
public. They  dragged  their  victim  to  the  con- 
vent of  the  Carmelites,  and  she  was  immured 
in  that  prison,  where,  but  a few  months  before, 
more  than  eight  thousand  had  been  massacred 
by  the  mob  of  Paris.  Even  the  blackest  an- 
nals of  religious  fanaticism  can  record  no  out- 
rages more  horrible  than  those  which  rampant 
infidelity  perpetrated  in  these  days  of  its  tem- 
porary triumphs. 

When  Eugene  and  Hortense  awoke,  they 
found  themselves  indeed  alone  in  the  wide  world. 
They  were  informed  by  a servant  of  the  arrest 
and  the  imprisonment  of  their  mother.  The 
times  had  long  been  so  troubled,  and  the  chil- 
dren were  so  familiar  with  the  recital  of  such 
scenes  of  violence,  that  they  were  prepared  to 
meet  these  fearful  perplexities  with  no  little 


ARREST  OF  JOSEPHINE. 


53 


degree  of  discretion.  After  a few  tears,  they 
tried  to  summon  resolution  to  act  worthily  of 
their  father  and  mother.  Hor tense,  with  that 
energy  of  character  which  she  manifested 
through  her  whole  life,  advised  that  they  should 
go  to  the  Luxembourg,  where  their  father  was 
confined,  and  demand  admission  to  share  his 
imprisonment.  Eugene,  with  that  caution 
which  characterized  him  when  one  of  the  lead- 
ers in  the  army  of  Napoleon,  and  when  viceroy 
of  Italy,  apprehensive  lest  thus  they  might  in 
some  way  compromise  the  safety  of  their  father, 
recalled  to  mind  an  aged  great-aunt,  who  was 
residing  in  much  retirement  in  the  vicinity  of 
Versailles,  and  suggested  the  propriety  of  seek- 
ing a refuge  with  her.  An  humble  female 
friend  conducted  the  children  to  Versailles, 
where  they  were  most  kindly  received. 

When  the  gloom  of  the  ensuing  night  dark- 
ened the  city,  M.  Beauharnais  in  his  cheerless 
cell,  and  Josephine  in  her  prison  still  stained 
with  the  blood  of  massacre,  wept  over  the  des- 
olation of  their  home  and  their  hopes.  They 
knew  not  the  fate  of  their  children,  and  their 
minds  were  oppressed  with  the  most  gloomy 
forebodings.  On  the  ensuing  day,  Josephine's 
heart  was  cheered  with  the  tidings  of  their 
safety.  Such  was  the  second  terrific  storm 
which  Josephine  encountered  on  life's  dark 
waters. 


54 


JOSEPHINE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SCENES  IN  PRISON. 

The  Convent  of  the  Carmelites*  in  which 
Josephine  was  imprisoned,  had  acquired  a 
fearful  celebrity  during  the  Reign  of  Terror. 
It  was  a vast  and  gloomy  pile,  so  capacious  in 
its  halls,  its  chapel,  its  cells,  and  its  subterra- 
nean dungeons,  that  at  one  time  nearly  ten 
thousand  prisoners  were  immured  within  its 
frowning  walls.  In  every  part  of  the  building 
the  floors  were  still  deeply  stained  with  the 
blood  of  the  recent  massacres.  The  infuriated 
men  and  women,  intoxicated  with  rum  and 
rage,  who  had  broken  into  the  prison,  dragged 
multitudes  of  their  victims,  many  of  whom  were 
priests,  into  the  chapel,  that  they  might,  in  de- 
rision of  religion,  poniard  them  before  the  altar. 
About  three  hundred  thousand  innocent  victims 
of  the  Revolution  now  crowded  the  prisons  of 
France.  These  unhappy  captives,  awaiting  the 
hour  of  their  execution,  were  not  the  ignorant, 
the  debased,  the  degraded,  but  the  noblest,  the 
purest,  the  most  refined  of  the  citizens  of  the 


SCENES  IN  PRISON. 


55 


republic.  Josephine  was  placed  in  the  chapel 
of  the  convent,  where  she  found  one  hundred 
and  sixty  men  and  women  as  the  sharers  of  her 
captivity. 

The  natural  buoyancy  of  her  disposition  led 
her  to  take  as  cheerful  a view  as  possible  of  the 
calamity  in  which  the  family  was  involved. 
Being  confident  that  no  serious  charge  could  be 
brought  against  her  husband,  she  clung  to  the 
hope  that  they  both  would  soon  be  liberated, 
and  that  happy  days  were  again  to  dawn  upon 
her  reunited  household.  She  wrote  cheering 
letters  to  her  husband  and  to  her  children.  Her 
smiling  countenance  and  words  of  kindness  an- 
imated with  new  courage  the  grief-stricken  and 
the  despairing  who  surrounded  her.  She  im- 
mediately became  a universal  favorite  with  the 
inmates  of  the  prison.  Her  instinctive  tact  en- 
abled her  to  approach  all  acceptably,  whatever 
their  rank  or  character.  She  soon  became 
prominent  in  influence  among  the  prisoners, 
and  reigned  there,  as  everywhere  else,  over  the 
hearts  of  willing  subjects.  Her  composure,  her 
cheerfulness,  her  clear  and  melodious  voice, 
caused  her  to  be  selected  to  read,  each  day,  to 
the  ladies,  the  journal  of  the  preceding  day. 
From  their  windows  they  could  see,  each  morn- 
ing, the  carts  bearing  through  the  streets  their 
burden  of  unhappy  victims  who  were  to  perish 
on  the  scaffold.  Not  unfrequently  a wife  would 


56 


JOSEPHTNE. 


catch  a glimpse  of  her  husband,  or  a mother  of 
her  son,  borne  past  the  grated  windows  in  the 
cart  of  the  condemned.  Who  can  tell  the  fear 
and  anguish  with  which  the  catalogue  of  the 
guillotined  was  read,  when  each  trembling  heart 
apprehended  that  the  next  word  might  an- 
nounce that  some  loved  one  had  perished  ? Not 
unfrequently  a piercing  shriek,  and  a fainting 
form  falling  lifeless  upon  the  floor,  revealed 
upon  whose  heart  the  blow  had  fallen. 

Hortense,  impetuous  and  unreflecting,  was  so 
impatient  to  see  her  mother,  that  one  morning 
she  secretly  left  her  aunt’s  house,  and,  in  a 
market  cart,  traveled  thirty  miles  to  Paris.  She 
found  her  mother’s  maid,  Victorine,  at  the  fam- 
ily mansion,  where  all  the  property  was  sealed 
up  by  the  revolutionary  functionaries:  After 

making  unavailing  efforts  to  obtain  an  interview 
with  her  parents,  she  returned  the  next  day  to 
Fontainebleau.  Josephine  was  informed  of  this 
imprudent  act  of  ardent  affection,  and  wrote  to 
her  child  the  following  admirable  letter  : 

“I  should  be  entirely  satisfied  with  the  good 
heart  of  my  Hortense  were  I not  displeased  with 
her  bad  head.  How  is  it,  my  daughter,  that, 
without  permission  from  your  aunt,  you  have 
come  to  Paris  ? This  was  very  wrong  ! But 
it  was  to  see  me,  you  will  say.  You  ought  to 
be  aware  that  no  one  can  see  me  without  an 
order,  to  obtain  which  requires  both  means  and 


SCENES  IN  PRISON. 


57 


precautions.  And,  besides,  you  got  upon  M. 
Dorcet's  cart,  at  the  risk  of  incommoding  him 
and  retarding  the  conveyance  of  his  merchan- 
dise. In  all  this  you  have  been  very  inconsid- 
erate. My  child  ! observe,  it  is  not  sufficient 
to  do  good. ; you  must  also  do  good  properly. 
At  your  age,  the  first  of  all  virtues  is  confidence 
and  docility  toward  your  relations.  I am  there- 
fore obliged  to  tell  you  that  I prefer  your  tran- 
quil attachment  to  your  misplaced  warmth. 
This,  however,  does  not  prevent  me  from  em- 
bracing you,  but  less  tenderly  than  I shall  do 
when  I learn  that  you  have  returned  to  your 
aunt.” 

There  was  at  this  time,  for  some  unknown 
reason,  a little  mitigation  in  the  severity  with 
which  the  prisoners  were  treated,  and  Jose- 
phine was  very  sanguine  in  the  belief  that  the 
■hour  of  their  release  was  at  hand.  Emboldened 
by  this  hope,  she  wrote  a very  earnest  appeal 
to  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  before 
whom  the  accusations  against  M.  Beauharnais 
would  be  brought.  The  sincerity  and  frank- 
ness of  the  eloquent  address  so  touched  the 
feelings  of  the  president  of  the  committee,  that 
he  resolved  to  secure  for  Josephine  and  her 
husband  the  indulgence  of  an  interview.  The 
greatest  caution  was  necessary  in  doing  this, 
for  he  periled  his  own  life  by  the  manifestation 
of  any  sympathy  for  the  accused, 


58 


JOSEPHINE. 


The  only  way  in  which  he  could  accomplish 
his  benevolent  project  was  to  have  them  both 
brought  together  for  trial.  Neither  of  them 
knew  of  this  design.  One  morning  Josephine, 
while  dreaming  of  liberty  and  of  her  children, 
was  startled  by  the  unexpected  summons  to 
appear  before  the  Revolutionary  tribunal.  She 
knew  that  justice  had  no  voice  which  could  be 
heard  before  that  mercil-ess  and  sanguinary 
court.  She  knew  that  the  mockery  of  a trial 
was  but  the  precursor  of  the  sentence,  which 
was  immediately  followed  by  the  execution. 
From  her  high  hopes  this  summons  caused  a 
fearful  fall.  Thoughts  of  her  husband  and  her 
children  rushed  in  upon  her  overflowing  heart, 
and  the  tenderness  of  the  woman  for  a few 
moments  triumphed  over  the  heroine.  Soon, 
however,  regaining  in  some  degree  her  compos- 
ure, she  prepared  herself,  with  as  much  calm- 
ness as  possible,  to  meet  her  doom.  She  was 
led  from  her  prison  to  the  hall  where  the 
blood-stained  tribunal  held  its  session,  and, 
with  many  others,  was  placed  in  an  anteroom, 
to  await  her  turn  for  an  examination  of  a few 
minutes,  upon  the  issues  of  which  life  or  death 
was  suspended.  While  Josephine  was  sitting 
here,  in  the  anguish  of  suspense,  an  opposite 
door  was  opened,  and  some  armed  soldiers  led 
in  a group  of  victims  from  another  prison.  As 
Josephine^  eye  vacantly  wandered  over  their 


SCENES  IN  PRISON. 


59 


features,  she  was  startled  by  the  entrance  of 
one  whose  wan  and  haggard  features  strikingly 
reminded  her  of  her  husband.  She  looked 
again,  their  eyes  met,  and  husband  and  wife 
were  instantly  locked  in  each  other's  embrace. 
At  this  interview,  the  stoicism  of  M.  Beauhar- 
nais  was  entirely  subdued — the  thoughts  of 
the  past,  of  his  unworthiness,  of  the  faithful 
and  generous  love  of  Josephine,  rushed  in  a re- 
sistless flood  upon  his  soul.  He  leaned  his 
aching  head  upon  the  forgiving  bosom  of  Jose- 
phine, and  surrendered  himself  to  love,  and 
penitence,  and  tears. 

This  brief  and  painful  interview  was  their 
last.  They  never  met  again.  They  were 
allowed  but  a few  moments  together  ere  the 
officers  came  and  dragged  M.  Beauharnais  be- 
fore the  judges.  His  examination  lasted  but  a 
few  minutes,  when  he  was  remanded  back  to 
prison.  Nothing  was  proved  against  him.  No 
serious  accusation  even  was  laid  to  his  charge. 
But  he  was  a noble.  He  had  descended  from 
illustrious  ancestors,  and  therefore,  as  an  aris- 
tocrat, he  was  doomed  to  die.  Josephine  was 
also  conducted  into  the  presence  of  this  sanguin- 
ary tribunal.  She  was  the  wife  of  a nobleman. 
She  was  the  friend  of  Maria  Antoinette.  She 
had  even  received  distinguished  attentions  at 
court.  These  crimes  consigned  her  also  to  the 
guillotine.  Josephine  was  conducted  back  to 


60 


JOSEPHINE. 


her  prison,  unconscious  of  the  sentence  which 
had  been  pronounced  against  her  husband  and 
herself.  She  even  cherished  the  sanguine 
hope  that  they  would  soon  be  liberated,  for  she 
could  not  think  it  possible  that  they  could  be 
doomed  to  death  without  even  the  accusation 
of  crime. 

Each  evening  there  was  brought  into  the 
prison  a list  of  the  names  of  those  who  were  to 
be  led  to  the  guillotine  on  the  ensuing  morning. 
A few  days  after  the  trial,  on  the  evening  of 
the  24th  of  July,  1794,  M.  Beauharnais  found 
his  name  with  the  proscribed  who  were  to  be 
led  to  the  scaffold  with  the  light  of  the  next 
day.  Love  for  his  wife  and  his  children  ren- 
dered life  too  precious  to  him  to  be  surrendered 
without  anguish.  But  sorrow  had  subdued  his 
heart,  and  led  him  with  prayerfulness  to  look 
to  God  for  strength  to  meet  the  trial.  The 
native  dignity  of  his  character  also  nerved  him 
to  meet  his  fate  with  fortitude. 

He  sat  down  calmly  in  his  cell,  and  wrote  a 
long,  affectionate,  and  touching  letter  to  his 
wife.  He  assured  her  of  his  most  heartfelt  ap- 
preciation of  the  purity  and  nobleness  of  her 
character,  and  of  her  priceless  worth  as  a wife 
and  a mother.  He  thanked  her  again  and  again 
for  the  generous  spirit  with  which  she  forgave 
his  offenses,  when,  weary  and  contrite,  he 
returned  from  his  guilty  wanderings,  and  anew 


SCENES  IN  PRISON. 


61 


sought  her  love.  He  implored  her  to  cherish 
in  the  hearts  of  his  children  the  memory  of 
their  father,  that,  though  dead,  he  might  still 
live  in  their  affections.  While  he  was  writing, 
the  executioners  came  in  to  cut  off  his  long  hair, 
that  the  ax  might  do  its  work  unimpeded. 
Picking  up  a small  lock  from  the  floor,  he 
wished  to  transmit  it  to  his  wife  as  his  last 
legacy.  The  brutal  executioners  forbade  him 
the  privilege.  He,  however,  succeeded  in  pur- 
chasing from  them  a few  hairs,  which  he  in- 
closed in  his  letter,  and  which  she  subsequently 
received. 

In  the  early  dawn  of  the  morning,  the  cart 
of  the  condemned  was  at  the  prison  door.  The 
Parisians  were  beginning  to  be  weary  of  the 
abundant  flow  of  blood,  and  Robespierre  had 
therefore  caused  the  guillotine  to  be  removed 
from  the  Place  de  la  Revolution  to  an  obscure 
spot  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine.  A large 
number  of  victims  were  doomed  to  die  that 
morning.  The  carts,  as  they  rolled  along  the 
pavements,  groaned  with  their  burdens,  and  the 
persons  in  the  streets  looked  on  in  sullen  silence, 
M.  Beauharnais,  with  firmness,  ascended  the 
scaffold.  The  slide  of  the  guillotine  fell,  and 
the  brief  drama  of  his  stormy  life  was  ended. 

While  the  mutilated  form  of  M.  Beauharnais 
wTas  borne  to  an  ignoble  burial,  Josephine,  en- 
tirely unconscious  of  the  calamity  which  had 


62 


JOSEPHINE. 


befallen  her,  was  cheering  her  heart  with  the 
hope  of  a speedy  union  with  her  husband  and 
her  children  in  their  own  loved  home.  The 
morning  after  the  execution,  the  daily  journal, 
containing  the  names  of  those  who  had  perished 
on  the  preceding  day,  was  brought,  as  usual,  to 
the  prison.  Some  of  the  ladies  in  the  prison 
had  received  the  intimation  that  M.  Beauliar- 
nais  had  fallen.  They  watched,  therefore,  the 
arrival  of  the  journal,  and,  finding  their  fears 
established,  they  tried,  for  a time,  to  conceal 
the  dreadful  intelligence  from  the  unconscious 
widow.  But  Josephine  was  eagerly  inquiring 
for  the  paper,  and  at  last  obtaining  it,  she  ran 
her  eye  hastily  over  the  record  of  executions, 
and  found  the  name  of  her  husband  in  the  fatal 
list.  She  fell  senseless  upon  the  floor.  For  a 
long  time  she  remained  in  a swoon.  When 
consciousness  returned,  and  with  it  a sense  of 
the  misery  into  which  she  was  plunged,  in  the 
delirium  of  her  anguish  she  exclaimed,  “Oh 
God  ! let  me  die  ! let  me  die  ! There  is  no 
peace  for  me  but  in  the  grave. ” 

Her  friends  gathered  around  her.  They  im- 
plored her  to  think  of  her  children,  and  for  their 
sake  to  prize  a life  she  could  no  longer  prize  for 
her  own.  The  poignancy  of  her  grief  gradually 
subsided  into  the  calm  of  despair.  A sleep- 
less night  lingered  slowly  away.  The  darkness 
and  the  gloom  of  a prison  settled  down  upon 


SCENES  IN  PRISON. 


63 


her  soul.  The  morning  dawned  drearily.  A 
band  of  rough  and  merciless  agents  from  the 
Revolutionary  Assembly  came  to  her  with  the 
almost  welcome  intelligence  that  in  two  days 
she  was  to  be  led  to  the  Conciergerie,  and  from 
thence  to  her  execution.  These  tidings  would 
have  been  joyful  to  Josephine  were  it  not  for 
her  children.  A mother's  love  clung  to  the  or- 
phans, and  it  was  with  pain  inexpressible  that 
she  thought  of  leaving  them  alone  in  this  tem- 
pestuous world — a world  made  so  stormy,  so 
woeful,  by  man's  inhumanity  to  his  fellow-man. 

The  day  preceding  the  one  assigned  for  her 
execution  arrived.  The  numerous  friends  of 
Josephine  in  the  prison  hung  around  her  with 
tears.  The  heartless  jailer  came  and  took  away 
her  mattress,  saying,  with  a sneer,  that  she 
would  need  it  no  longer,  as  her  head  was  soon 
to  repose  upon  the  soft  pillow  of  the  guillotine. 
It  is  reported  that,  as  the  hour  of  execution 
drew  nearer,  Josephine  became  not  only  per- 
fectly calm,  but  even  cheerful  in  spirit.  She 
looked  affectionately  upon  the  weeping  group 
gathered  around  her,  and,  recalling  at  the  mo- 
ment the  prediction  of  the  agednegress,  gently 
smiling,  said,  “ We  have  no  cause  for  alarm, 
my  friends  ; I am  not  to  be  executed.  It  is 
written  in  the  decrees  of  Fate  that  I am  yet  to 
be  Queen  of  France."  Some  of  her  friends 
thought  that  the  suppressed  anguish  of  her  heart 


64 


JOSEPHINE. 


had  driven  her  to  delirium,  and  they  wept  more 
bitterly.  But  one  of  the  ladies,  Madame  d’Ai- 
guillon,  was  a little  irritated  at  pleasantry  which 
she  deemed  so  ill  timed.  With  something  like 
resentment,  she  asked,  “Why,  then,  madame, 
do  you  not  appoint  your  household  ?”  “ Ah  ! 

that  is  true,”  Josephine  replied.  “I  had  for- 
gotten. Well,  you,  my  dear,  shall  be  my  maid 
of  honor.  I promiseyou  the  situation.”  They 
both  lived  to  witness  the  strange  fulfillment  of 
this  promise.  Josephine,  however,  who,  from 
the  circumstances  of  her  early  life,  was  inclined 
to  credulity,  afterward  declared  that  at  the  time 
her  mind  reposed  in  the  full  confidence  that  in 
Borne  way  her  life  would  be  saved,  and  that  the 
prediction  of  the  negress  would  be  virtually 
realized. 

The  shades  of  night  settled  down  around  the 
gloomy  convent,  enveloping  in  their  folds  the 
despairing  hearts  which  thronged  this  abode 
of  woe.  Suddenly  the  most  exultant  shout  of 
joy  burst  from  every  lip,  and  echoed  along 
through  corridors,  and  dungeons,  and  grated 
cells.  There  was  weeping  and  fainting  for  rap- 
ture inexpressible.  The  prisoners  leaped  into 
each  other’s  arms,  and,  frantic  with  happiness, 
clung  together  in  that  long  and  heartfelt  em- 
brace which  none  can  appreciate  but  those  who 
have  been  companions  in  woe.  Into  the  black- 
ness of  their  midnight  there  had  suddenly  burst 


SCENES  IN  PRISON. 


65 


the  blaze  of  noonday.  What  caused  this  ap- 
parently miraculous  change  ? The  iron-hearted 
jailer  had  passed  along,  announcing,  in  coarsest 
phrase,  that  Robespierre  was  guillotiend. 
There  had  been  a inew  revolution.  The  tyrant 
had  fallen.  The  prisons  which  he  had  filled 
with  victims  were  to  be  emptied  of  their 
captives. 

5 


66 


JOSEPHINE. 


CHAPTER  T, 

THE  RELEASE  FROM  PRISON. 

The  overthrow  of  Robespierre,  and  the  con- 
sequent escape  of  Josephine  from  the  doom 
impending  over  her,  was  in  the  following  man- 
ner most  strangely  accomplished.  The  tyranny 
of  Robespierre  had  become  nearly  insupport- 
able. Conspiracies  were  beginning  to  be 
formed  to  attempt  his  overthrow.  A lady  of 
great  beauty  and  celebrity,  Madame  de  Fon- 
tenay,  was  imprisoned  with  Josephine.  M. 
Tallien,  a man  of  much  influence  with  a new 
party  then  rising  into  power,  had  conceived  a 
strong  attachment  for  this  lady,  and,  though 
he  could  not  safely  indulge  himself  in  inter- 
views with  her  in  prison,  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  coming  daily  to  the  Convent  of  the  Carmel- 
ites that  he  might  have  the  satisfaction  of 
catching  a glimpse  of  the  one  he  loved  through 
her  grated  window. 

Madame  de  Fontenay  had  received  secret  in- 
telligence that  she  was  soon  to  be  led  before  the 
Convention  for  trial.  This  she  knew  to  be  but 


THE  RELEASE  FROM  PRISON. 


67 


the  prelude  of  her  execution.  That  evening 
M.  Tallien  appeared  as  usual  before  the  guarded 
casement  of  the  Carmelites.  Madame  de  Fon- 
tenay and  Josephine,  arm  in  arm,  leaned 
against  the  bars  of  the  window,  as  if  to  breathe 
the  fresh  evening  air,  and  made  a sign  to  arrest 
M.  TallieiFs  particular  attention.  They  then 
dropped  from  the  window  a piece  of  cabbage- 
leaf,  in  which  Madame  de  Fontenay  had  in- 
closed the  following  note  : 

“ My  trial  is  decreed — the  result  is  certain. 
If  you  love  me  as  you  say,  urge  every  means  to 
save  France  and  me/’ 

With  intense  interest,  they  watched  the  mo- 
tions of  M.  Tallien  until  they  saw  him  take  the 
cabbage-leaf  from  the  ground.  Roused  by  the 
billet  to  the  consciousness  of  the  necessity  of 
immediate  action,  he  proceeded  to  the  Conven- 
tion, and,  with  the  impassioned  energy  which 
love  for  Madame  de  Fontenay  and  hatred  of 
Robespierre  inspired,  made  an  energetic  and 
fearless  assault  upon  the  tyrant.  Robespierre, 
pale  and  trembling,  saw  that  his  hour  had 
come.  A decree  of  accusation  was  preferred 
against  him,  and  the  head  of  the  merciless  des- 
pot fell  upon  that  guillotine  where  he  had  al- 
ready caused  so  many  thousands  to  perish.  The 
day  before  Josephine  was  to  have  been  exe- 
cuted, he  was  led,  mangled  and  bleedmg,  to  the 
scaffold.  He  had  attempted  to  commit  suicide. 


68 


JOSEPHINE. 


The  ball  missed  its  aim,  but  shattered  his  jaw. 
The  wretched  man  ascended  the  ladder,  and 
stood  upon  the  platform  of  the  guillotine.  The 
executioners  tore  the  bandage  from  his  man- 
gled face,  that  the  linen  might  not  impede  the 
blow  of  the  ax.  Their  rude  treatment  of  the 
inflamed  wound  extorted  a cry  of  agony,  which 
thrilled  upon  the  ear  of  the  assembled  crowd, 
and  produced  a silence  as  of  the  grave.  The 
next  moment  the  slide  fell,  and  the  mutilated 
head  was  severed  from  the  body.  Then  the 
very  heavens  seemed  rent  by  one  long,  loud,  ex- 
ulting shout,  which  proclaimed  that  Robespierre 
was  no  more  ! 

The  death  of  Robespierre  arrested  the  ax 
which  was  just  about  to  fall  upon  the  head  of 
Josephine.  The  first  intimation  of  his  over- 
throw was  communicated  to  her  in  the  follow- 
ing singular  manner.  Madame  d’Aiguillon 
was  weeping  bitterly,  and  sinking  down  with 
'faintness  in  view  of  the  bloody  death  to  which 
her  friend  was  to  be  led  on  the  morrow.  Jo- 
sephine, whose  fortitude  had  not  forsaken  her, 
drew  her  almost  senseless  companion  to  the 
window,  that  she  might  be  revived  by  the  fresh 
air.  Her  attention  was  arrested  by  a woman 
of  the  lower  orders  in  the  street,  who  was  con- 
tinually looking  up  to  the  window,  beckoning 
to  Josephine,  and  making  many  very  singular 
gestures.  She  seemed  to  desire  to  call  her  at- 


Page  68.  the  pantomime. 


THE  RELEASE  FROM  PRISON. 


69 


tention  particularly  to  the  robe  which  she  wore,, 
holding  it  up,  and  pointing  to  it  again  and 
again.  Josephine,  through  the  iron  grating, 
cried  out  Robe . The  woman  eagerly  gave  signs 
of  assent,  and  immediately  took  up  a stone, 
which  in  French  is  Pierre . Josephine  again 
cried  out  pierre . The  woman  appeared  over- 
joyed on  perceiving  that  her  pantomime  began 
to  be  understood.  She  then  put  the  two  to- 
gether, pointing  alternately  to  the  one  and  to 
the  other.  Josephine  cried  out  Robespierre . 
The  woman  then  began  to  dance  and  shout 
with  delight,  and  made  signs  of  cutting  off  a 
head. 

This  pantomime  excited  emotions  in  the 
bosom  of  Josephine  which  cannot  be  described. 
She  hardly  dared  to  believe  that  the  tyrant  had 
actually  fallen,  and  yet  she  knew  not  how  else 
to  account  for  the  singular  conduct  of  the  wom- 
an. But  a few  moments  elapsed  before  a great 
noise  was  heard  in  the  corridor  of  the  prison. 
The  turnkey,  in  loud  and  fearless  tones,  cried 
out  to  his  dog,  “ Get  out,  you  cursed  brute  of 
a Robespierre  1 99  This  emphatic  phraseology 
convinced  them  that  the  sanguinary  monster 
before  whom  all  France  had  trembled  was  no 
longer  to  be  feared.  In  a few  moments  the 
glad  tidings  were  resounding  through  the  pris- 
on, and  many  were  in  an  instant  raised  from 
the  abyss  of  despair  to  almost  a delirium  of  bliss. 


TO 


JOSEPHINE. 


Josephine's  bed  was  restored  to  her,  and  she 
placed  her  head  upon  her  pillow  that  night,  and 
sank  down  to  the  most  calm  and  delightful 
repose. 

No  language  can  describe  the  transports  ex- 
cited throughout  all  France  by  the  tidings  of 
the  fall  of  Robespierre.  Three  hundred  thou- 
sand captives  were  then  lingering  in  the  prisons 
of  Paris  awaiting  death.  As  the  glittering  steel 
severed  the  head  of  the  tyrant  from  his  body, 
their  prison  doors  burst  open,  and  Franco  was 
filled  with  hearts  throbbing  with  ecstasy,  and 
with  eyes  overflowing  with  tears  of  rapture. 
Five  hundred  thousand  fugitives  were  trembling 
in  their  retreats,  apprehensive  of  arrest.  They 
issued  from  their  hiding-places  frantic  with  joy, 
and  every  village  witnessed  their  tears  and  em- 
braces. 

The  new  party  which  now  came  into  power, 
with  Tallien  at  its  head,  immediately  liberated 
those  who  had  been  condemned  by  their  oppo- 
nents, and  the  prison  doors  of  Josephine  were 
thrown  open  to  her.  But  from  the  gloom  of 
her  cell  she  returned  to  a world  still  dark  and 
clouded.  Her  husband  had  been  beheaded,  and 
all  his  property  confiscated.  She  found  herself 
a widow  and  penniless.  Nearly  all  of  her  friends 
had  perished  in  the  storms  which  had  swept  over 
France.  The  Reign  of  Terror  had  passed  away, 
but  gaunt  famine  was  staring  the  nation  in  the 


THE  RELEASE  FROM  PRISON.  71 

face.  They  were  moments  of  ecstasy  when  Jo- 
sephine, again  free,pressed  Eugene  and  Hortense 
to  her  heart.  But  the  most  serious  embarrass- 
ments immediately  crowded  upon  her.  Pover- 

ty, stern  and  apparently  remdeiless,  was  her  lot. 
She  had  no  friends  upon  whom  she  had  any 
right  to  call  for  aid.  There  was  no  employment 
open  before  her  by  which  she  could  obtain  her 
subsistence ; and  it  appeared  that  she  and  her 
children  were  to  be  reduced  to  absolute  beggary. 
These  were  among  the  darkest  hours  of  her 
earthly  career.  It  was  from  this  abyss  of  ob- 
scurity and  want  that  she  was  to  be  raised  to  a 
position  of  splendor  and  of  power  such  as  the 
wildest  dreams  of  earthly  ambition  could  hardly 
have  conceived. 

Though  Robespierre  was  dead,  the  strife  of 
rancorous  parties  raged  with  unabated  violence, 
and  blood  flowed  freely.  The  reign  of  the  mob 
still  continued,  and  it  was  a mark  of  patriotism 
demanded  by  the  clamors  of  haggard  want  and 
degradation  to  persecute  all  of  noble  blood. 
Young  girls  from  the  boarding-schools,  and  boys 
just  emerging  from  the  period  of  childhood, 
were  beheaded  by  the  guillotine.  “ We  must 
exterminate/'  said  Marat,  “all  the  whelps  of 
aristocracy."  Josephine  trembled  for  her  chil- 
dren. Poverty,  and  the  desire  of  concealing 
Eugene  among  the  mass  of  the  people,  induced 
her  to  apprentice  her  son  to  a house  carpenter. 


72 


JOSEPHINE. 


For  several  months  Eugene  cheerfully  and  la- 
boriously toiled  in  this  humble  occupation.  But 
the  sentiments  he  had  imbibed  from  both  father 
and  mother  ennobled  him,  and  every  day  pro- 
duced new  developments  of  a lofty  character, 
which  no  circumstances  could  long  depress. 

Let  such  a woman  as  Josephine,  with  her 
•cheerful,  magnanimous,  self-sacrificing,  and 
generous  spirit,  be  left  destitute  in  any  place 
where  human  beings  are  congregated,  and  she 
will  soon  inevitably  meet  with  those  who  will 
feel  honored  in  securing  her  friendship  and  in 
offering  her  a home.  Every  fireside  has  a wel- 
come for  a noble  heart.  Madame  Dumoulin*  a 
lady  of  great  elevation  of  character,  whose  large 
fortune  had  by  some  chance  escaped  the  general 
wreck,  invited  Josephine  to  her  house,  and 
freely  supplied  her  wants.  Madame  Fontenay, 
also,  who  was  a woman  of  great  beauty  and  ac- 
complishments, soon  after  her  liberation  was 
married  to  M.  T allien,  to  whom  she  had  tossed 
the  note,  inclosed  in  a cabbage-leaf,  from  her 
prison  window.  It  was  this  note  which  had  so 
suddenly  secured  the  overthrow  of  the  tyrant, 
and  had  rescued  so  many  from  the  guillotine. 
They  both  became  the  firm  friends  of  Josephine. 
Others,  also,  soon  became  strongly  attracted  to 
her  by  the  loveliness  of  her  character,  and  were 
ambitious  to  supply  all  her  wants. 

Through  M.  Tallien,  she  urged  her  claim 


THE  RELEASE  FROM  PRISON. 


73 


upon  the  National  Convention  for  the  restora- 
tion of  her  confiscated  property.  After  a long 
and  tedious  process,  she  succeeded  in  regaining 
such  a portion  of  her  estate  as  to  provide  her 
amply  with  all  the  comforts  of  life.  Again  she 
had  her  own  peaceful  home,  with  Eugene  and 
Hortense  by  her  side.  Her  natural  buoyancy 
of  spirits  rose  superior  to  the  storms  which  had 
swept  so  mercilessly  over  her,  and  in  the  love 
of  her  idolized  children,  and  surrounded  by  the 
sympathies  of  appreciative  friends,  days  of 
serenity,  and  even  of  joy,  began  to  shine  upon 
her. 

A domestic  scene  occurred  in  the  dwelling 
of  Josephine  on  the  anniversary  of  the  death  of 
M.  Beauharnais  peculiarly  characteristic  of  the 
times  and  of  the  French  people.  Josephine 
called  Eugene  to  her  room,  and  presented  to 
him  a portrait  of  his  father.  “ Carry  it  to  your 
chamber,”  my  son,  she  said,  “ and  often  let  it 
be  the  object  of  your  contemplations.  Above 
all,  let  him  whose  image  it  presents  be  your 
constant  model.  He  was  the  most  amiable  of 
men  ; he  would  have  been  the  best  of  fathers.” 

Eugene  was  a young  man  of  that  enthusi- 
astic genius  which  is  the  almost  invariable  ac- 
companiment of  a noble  character.  His  emo- 
tions were  deeply  excited.  With  the  charac- 
teristic ardor  of  his  countrymen,  he  covered  the 
portrait  with  kisses,  and  wept  freely.  Josephine 


74 


JOSEPHINE. 


folded  her  noble  boy  in  her  embrace,  and  they 
mingled  their  tears  together. 

In  the  evening/  as  Josephine  was  sitting 
alone  in  her  parlor,  her  son  entered/ accompa- 
nied by  six  young  men,  his  companions,  each 
decorated  with  a copy  of  the  portrait  of  M. 
Beauharnais  suspended  from  the  neck  by  a black 
and  white  ribbon.  “ You  see,”  said  Eugene  to 
his  mother,  “ the  founders  of  a new  order  of 
knighthood.  Behold  our  tutelary  saint,”  point- 
ing to  the  portrait  of  his  father.  “ And  these 
are  the  first  members.”  He  then  introduced 
his  youthful  companions  to  his  mother. 

“ Ours,”  he  continued  , “ is  named  the  Order 
of  Filial  Love  ; and,  if  you  would  witness  the 
first  inauguration,  pass  with  these  gentlemen 
into  the  small  drawing-room.” 

Josephine  entered  the  drawing-room  with  the 
youthful  group,  and  found  it  very  tastefully 
ornamented  with  garlands  of  ivy,  roses,  and 
laurels.  Inscriptions,  taken  from  the  printed 
discourses  or  remarkable  sayings  of  M.  Beau- 
harnais, were  suspended  upon  the  walls.  Gir- 
andoles, with  lighted  tapers,  brilliantly  illumi- 
nated the  room.  An  altar  was  erected,  hung 
with  festoons  of  flowers,  and  upon  this  altar 
was  placed  the  full-length  portrait  of  M.  Beau- 
harnais. Three  crowns  of  white  and  red  roses 
were  suspended  from  the  picture-frame,  and  in 
front  were  placed  two  vases  with  perfumes. 


TH®  RELEASE  FROM  PRISON. 


75 


The  young  gentlemen  ranged  themselves 
about  the  altar  in  perfect  silence,  and,  at  a con- 
certed signal,  eagerly  unsheathed  the  swords 
which  they  wore  at  their  sides,  and,  clasping 
hands,  solemnly  took  the  oath,  “ To  love  their 
'parents,  succor  each  other,  and  to  defend  their 
country . ” At  this  moment,  Eugene,  unfurl- 
ing and  waving  a small  banner,  with  its  folds 
shaded  the  head  of  his  father.  “ We  then  em- 
braced each  other,”  says  Josephine,  “mingling 
tears  with  smiles,  and  the  most  amiable  disor- 
der succeeded  to  the  ceremonial  of  inaugura- 
tion.” 

The  fascination  of  Josephine's  person  and 
address  drew  multitudes  of  friends  around  her, 
and  her  society  was  ever  coveted.  As  time 
softened  the  poignancy  of  her  past  sorrows,  she 
mingled  more  and  more  in  the  social  circles  of 
that  metropolis  where  pleasure  and  gayety  ever 
reign.  The  terrible  convulsions  of  the  times 
had  thrown  the  whole  fabric  of  society  into  con- 
fusion. Great  efforts  were  now  made  to  revive 
the  festivities  of  former  days.  Two  centers  of 
society  were  naturally  established.  The  first 
included  that  in  which  Josephine  moved.  It 
was  composed  of  the  remains  of  the  ancient  no- 
bility, who  had  returned  to  Paris  with  the  frag- 
ments of  their  families  and  their  shattered  for- 
tunes. Rigid  economy  was  necessary  to  keep 
up  any  appearance  of  elegance.  But  that  pol- 


76 


JOSEPHINE. 


ish  of  manners  which  almost  invariably  descends 
from  an  illustrious  ancestry  marked  all  their 
intercourse.  The  humiliations  through'  which 
the  nobles  had  passed  had  not  diminished  the 
exclusiveness  of  their  tastes.  The  other  circle 
was  composed  of  merchants  and  bankers  who 
had  acquired  opulence  in  the  midst  of  the  con- 
fiscations and  storms  of  revolution.  The  pas- 
sion for  display  was  prominent  in  all  their  as- 
semblies, as  is  necessarily  the  case  with  those 
whose  passport  to  distinction  is  wealth. 

At  the  theaters  and  all  the  places  of  public 
festivity,  there  were  presented  studied  memo- 
rials of  the  scenes  of  horror  through  which  all 
had  recently  passed.  One  of  the  most  fashion- 
able and  brilliant  assemblies  then  known  in 
Paris  was  called  The  Ball  of  the  Victims.  No 
one  was  admitted  to  this  assembly  who  had  not 
lost  some  near  relative  by  the  guillotine.  The 
most  fashionable  style  of  dressing  the  hair  was 
jocosely  called  “ k la  guillotine.”  The  hair 
was  arranged  in  the  manner  in  which  it  had 
been  adjusted  by  the  executioner  for  the  unim- 
peded operation  of  the  ax.  And  thus,  with 
songs,  and  dances,  and  laughter-moving  jokes, 
they  commemorated  the  bloody  death  of  their 
friends. 

A new  insurrection  by  the  populace  of  Paris 
was  at  this  time  planned  against  the  Conven- 
tion. The  exasperated  people  were  again  to 


THE  RELEASE  FROM  PRISON. 


77 


march  upon  the  Tuilleries.  The  members  were 
in  extreme  consternation.  The  mob  could  bring 
tens  of  thousands  against  them,  well  armed  with 
muskets  and  heavy  artillery.  There  were  but 
five  hundred  regular  troops  with  which  to  resist 
the  onset.  Menou,  the  officer  in  command,  ac- 
knowledged his  inability  to  meet  the  crisis,  and 
surrendered  his  power  to  Barras.  This  general 
immediately,  as  by  a sudden  thought,  exclaimed, 
“ I know  the  man  who  can  defend  us  ! He  is 
a little  Corsican,  who  dares  do  anything,  and  is 
perfectly  reckless  of  consequences  ! 99 

The  little  Corsican,  Napoleon  Bonaparte, 
the  day-star  of  whose  fame  was  just  beginning 
to  rise  over  the  smoldering  ruins  of  Toulon, 
was  invited  to  meet  the  Convention.  His 
fragile  form  was  almost  feminine  in  its  propor- 
tions, but  an  eagle  eye  calmly  reposed  in  his 
pallid  and  emaciate  countenance.  He  had  been 
severely  sick,  and  the  Convention  looked  with 
amazement  and  incredulity  upon  this  feeble 
youth,  as  the  one  presented  to  rescue  them 
from  their  impending  peril. 

The  president  fixed  his  eye  upon  him  doubt- 
ingly,  and  said,  “ Are  you  willing  to  under- 
take our  defense  ? 99 

“ Yes!  "was  the  calm,  laconic,  and  almost 
indifferent  reply. 

“ But  are  you  aware  of  the  magnitude  of  the 
undertaking  ? 99 


78 


JOSEPHINE. 


“ Fully  ! ” said  Napoleon,  fixing  his  piercing 
eye  upon  the  president;  “and  I am  in  the 
habit  of  accomplishing  that  which  I under- 
take.” 

From  that  moment  his  authority  was  estab- 
lished. Every  member  of  the  Convention  felt 
the  mysterious  fascination  of  his  master  mind. 
Barras  surrendered  the  whole  command  into 
his  hands.  He  instantly  called  into  the  city 
al1  the  national  forces  which  were  around  Paris, 
and  disposed  fifty  pieces  of  heavy  artillery, 
under  the  command  of  Murat,  so  as  to  rake  all 
the  avenues  to  the  Convention.  His  calm  and 
almost  superhuman  energy  sought  no  repose 
that  night.  The  delay  of  but  a few  moments 
would  have  placed  this  very  park  of  artillery, 
which  secured  his  victory,  in  the  hands  of  the 
insurgents.  When  the  morning  dawned,  the 
Tuilleries,  as  if  by  magic,  had  assumed  the 
aspect  of  a fortified  camp.  The  little  Corsican 
was  silently  and  calmly  awaiting  the  onset,  as 
secure  of  triumph  as  if  the  victory  were  already 
achieved. 

But  in  every  quarter  of  Paris,  during  the 
night,  the  insurgents  had  been  mustering  their 
forces,  and  the  mutterings  of  the  approaching 
storm  were  dismally  echoed  through  the  streets 
of  the  metropolis.  Above  thirty  thousand 
men,  all  well  armed  with  musketry,  and  artillery 
in  regular  military  array,  and  under  experienced 


THE  RELEASE  FROM  PRISON.  79 

generals,  came  pouring  down  upon  the  feeble 
band  which  surrounded  the  Convention. 

Will  the  little  Corsican  dare  to  fire  upon  the 
people  ? Will  this  pale  and  slender  youth,  who 
had  hardly  yet  entered  upon  the  period  of  man- 
hood, dare  to  deluge  the  pavements  of  Paris 
with  the  blood  of  her  own  citizens  ? Will  he 
venture  upon  a conflict  so  unequal,  when  fail- 
ure is  his  certain  death  ? 

Napoleon,  with  his  colorless  cheek,  his  flash- 
ing eye,  and  his  air  of  mysterious  melancholy, 
stood  in  silence,  as  the  gathering  thousands 
crowded  down  upon  him.  He  offered  no  par- 
ley ; he  uttered  not  a word  of  warning  ; he  con- 
descended to  no  threats.  The  insurgents,  be- 
lieving that  he  would  not  dare  to  fire  upon 
them,  advanced  within  fifty  yards  of  his  masked 
battery,  when  he  opened  his  columns,  and,  in 
the  roar  of  artillery  shotted  to  the  muzzle,  the 
voice  of  Napoleon  was  for  the  first  time  heard 
in  the  streets  of  Paris.  The  thunder  of  his 
tones  was  preceded  by  the  lightning’s  bolt.  The 
merciless  storm  of  grape-shot,  sweeping  the 
streets,  covered  the  ground  with  the  dead  and 
the  dying.  No  mortal  could  withstand  such  a 
conflict.  The  advancing  foe  wavered  for  an  in- 
stant, and  then,  in  the  utmost  consternation, 
took  to  flight.  Napoleon  commanded  immedi- 
ately the  most  rapid  discharge  of  blank  car- 
tridges. Peal  upon  peal,  their  loud  reverbera- 


80 


JOSEPHTNE. 


tions  deafened  the  city,  and  added  wings  to  the 
flight  of  the  terror-stricken  crowd.  But  a few 
moments  elapsed  ere  not  even  a straggler  could 
be  seen  in  the  deserted  streets.  The  little  Cor- 
sican, pale  and  calm,  stood,  with  folded  arms, 
as  unperturbed  as  if  no  event  of  any  moment 
had  occurred.  During  the  whole  day,  however, 
the  conflict  continued  in  different  parts  of  the 
city,  but  before  nightfall  the  insurgents  were 
everywhere  entirely  discomfited. 

Paris  was  now  filled  with  the  name  of  Na- 
poleon. Some  regarded  him  as  a saviour,  pro- 
tecting the  Convention  ; others  considered  him 
a demon,  deluging  the  capital  with  blood.' 
One  evening,  Josephine  was  visiting  at  the 
house  of  a friend,  and  sitting  by  a window 
examining  some  beautiful  violets,  when 
Bonaparte  was  announced.  Josephine  had 
never  yet  met  him,  though,  of  course,  she  had 
heard  much  of  one  whose  rising  fame  filled  the 
metropolis. 

She  says  that  she  trembled  violently  at  the 
announcement  of  his  name.  His  entrance 
seemed  to  excite  general  interest,  and  all  eyes 
were  turned  toward  him,  though  most  of  the 
company  regarded  him  in  silence.  He  ap- 
proached Josephine,  and  the  subject  of  the 
recent  conflict  in  the  streets  of  Paris  was 
introduced. 

“It  seems  to  me,”  said  Josephine,  “that  it 


THE  RELEASE  FROM  PRISON. 


81 


is  only  with  regret  that  we  should  think  of  the 
consternation  you  have  spread  through  the 
capital.  It  is  a frightful  service  you  have 
performed.” 

“ It  is  very  possible,”  he  replied.  “ The 
military  are  only  automata,  to  which  the  govern- 
ment gives  such  motions  as  it  pleases.  . They 
have  no  duty  but  to  obey.  Besides,  I wished 
to  teach  the  Parisians  a little  lesson.  This  is 
my  seal  which  I have  set  upon  France” 

This  he  said  in  such  calm,  quiet,  imperturb- 
able tones,  so  expressive  of  his  perfect  confi- 
dence in  himself,  and  of  his  indifference  to  the 
opinions  of  others,  that  Josephine  was  quite 
piqued,  and  replied  politely,  but  yet  in  a man- 
ner which  indicated  her  displeasure. 

“ These  light  skirmishes,”  the  young  general 
rejoined,  “are  but  the  first  coruscations  of  my 
glory.” 

“ If  you  are  to  acquire  glory  at  such  a price,” 
Josephine  answered,  “ I would  much  rather 
count  you  among  the  victims.” 

Such  was  the  first  interview  between  Jo- 
sephine and  Napoleon.  It  was  merely  a casual 
meeting  in  an  evening  party  between  a widow, 
graceful  and  beautiful,  and  a young  man  of 
boundless  ambition.  Though  Josephine  was 
not  pleased  with  Napoleon,  he  produced  a very 
profound  impression  upon  her  mind.  Napo- 
leon, being  now  in.  command  of  the  troops  in 


82 


JOSEPHINE. 


Paris,  by  order  of  the  Convention,  executed  the 
very  unpopular  office  of  disarming  the  populace. 
In  the  performance  of  this  order,  the  sword  of 
M.  Beauharnais  was  taken.  The  next  day,  Eu- 
gene, who  was  then  a boy  twelve  years  of  age, 
of  exceedingly  prepossessing  appearance,  pre- 
sented himself  before  Napoleon,  and  implored 
the  return  of  the  sword  which  had  belonged  to 
his  father.  Napoleon  was  deeply  interested  in 
the  frankness  and  the  fervor  of  emotion  mani- 
fested by  the  lad,  and  immediately  complied 
with  his  request.  Josephine  called  upon  him 
the  next  day  to  thank  him  for  his  kindness  to 
her  son.  He  was  at  this  interview  as  deeply 
impressed  by  the  fascinations  of  the  mother  as 
he  had  previously  been  struck  by  the  noble 
bearing  of  the  child.  After  this  they  frequently 
met,  and  Josephine  could  no|  be  blind  to  the 
interest  with  which  she  was  regarded  by  Napo- 
leon. Situated  as  he  then  was,  it  was  social 
elevation  to  him  to  be  united  with  Madame  de 
Beauharnais,  and  her  rank,  and  influence,  and 
troops  of  friends  would  greatly  aid  him  in  his 
ambitious  plans.  It  is  also  unquestionably  true 
that  Napoleon  formed  a very  strong  attach- 
ment for  Josephine.  Indeed,  she  was  the  only 
person  whom  he  ever  truly  loved.  That  he  did 
love  her  at  times  most  passionately  there  can 
be  no  doubt. 

Josephine,  however,  had  many  m sgivings 


THE  RELEASE  FROM  PRISON. 


83 


respecting  the  expediency  of  the  union.  She 
stated  to  her  friends  that  he  was  the  most  fas- 
cinating man  that  she  had  ever  met ; that  she 
admired  his  courage,  the  quickness  of  his  judg- 
ment, the  extent  of  his  information.  She, 
however,  confessed  that  she  did  not  really  love 
him — that  she  stood  in  awe  of  him.  “His 
searching  glance,”  she  says,  “mysterious  and 
inexplicable,  imposes  even  upon  our  Directors 
— judge  if  it  may  not  intimidate  a woman.” 

“ Being  now  past  the  heyday  of  youth,”  she 
writes  in  a letter  to  her  friend,  “ can  I hope 
long  to  preserve  that  ardor  of  attachment  which, 
in  the  general,  resembles  a fit  of  delirium  ? If, 
after  our  union,  he  should  cease  to  love  me, 
will  he  not  reproach  me  with  what  he  will  have 
sacrificed  for  my  sake  ? Will  he  not  regret  a 
more  brilliant  marriage  which  he  might  have 
contracted  ? What  shall  I then  reply  ? What 
shall  Ido?  I shall  weep.  Excellent  resource  ! 
you  will  say.  Alas  ! I know  that  all  this  can 
serve  no  end  ; but  it  has  ever  been  thus  ; tears 
are  the  only  resource  left  me  when  this  poor 
heart,  so  easily  chilled,  has  suffered.  Write 
quickly,  and  do  not  fear  to  scold  me,  should 
you  judge  that  I am  wrong.  You  know  that 
whatever  comes  from  your  pen  will  be  taken  in 
good  part. 

“ Barras  gives  assurance  that  if  I marry  the 
general,  he  will  so  contrive  as  to  have  him  ap- 


84 


JOSEPHINE. 


pointed  to  the  command  of  the  army  of  Italy. 
Yesterday,  Bonaparte,  speaking  of  this  favor, 
which  already  excites  murmuring  among  his 
fellow-soldiers,  though  it  be  as  yet  only  a prom- 
ise, said  to  me,  “ Think  they,  then,  I have 
need  of  their  protection  to  arrive  at  power  ? 
Egregious  mistake  ! They  will  all  be  but  too 
happy  one  day  should  I grant  them  mine.  My 
sword  is  by  my  side,  and  with  it  I will  g(?far.” 

“ What  say  you  to  this  security  of  success  ? 
Is  it  not  a proof  of  confidence  springing  from 
an  excess  of  vanity  ? A general  of  brigade  pro- 
tect the  heads  of  government  ! that,  truly,  is 
an  event  highly  probable  ! I know  not  how  it 
is,  but  sometimes  this  waywardness  gains  upon 
me  to  such  a degree  that  almost  I believe  pos- 
sible whatever  this  singular  man  may  take  it 
in  his  head  to  attempt ; and,  with  his  imagina- 
tion, who  can  calculate  what  he  will  not  un- 
dertake ? ” 

It  was  now  winter.  The  storm  of  Revolu- 
tion had  partially  subsided.  The  times  were, 
however,  full  of  agitation  and  peril.  Europe 
was  in  arms  against  France.  There  was  no 
stable  government  and  no  respected  laws.  The 
ambitious  young  general  consecrated  his  days 
with  sleepless  energy  to  his  public  duties,  but 
each  evening  he  devoted  to  Josephine.  Napo- 
leon never  manifested  any  taste  for  those  dissi- 
pating pleasures  which  attract  and  ruin  so 


THE  RELEASE  FROM  PRISON. 


85 


many  young  men.  He  had  no  moral  princi- 
ples which  pronounced  such  indulgences 
wrong,  but  the  grandeur  of  his  ambition  ab- 
sorbed all  his  energies.  He  was,  even  at  that 
time,  a hard  student.  He  was  never  more 
happy  than  when  alone  with  Josephine,  en- 
gaged in  conversation  or  reading.  His  at- 
tachment for  Josephine  became  very  ardent 
and  passionate.  The  female  character  at  this 
time,  in  France,  was  far  from  high.  Napoleon 
had  but  little  respect  for  ladies  in  general. 
The  circumstances  of  his  life  had  led  him  to 
form  a low  estimate  of  the  sex.  He  often  said 
that  all  the  rest  of  the  sex  were  nothing  com- 
pared with  Josephine.  He  frequently  gave 
public  breakfasts  to  his  friends,  at  which  Jo- 
sephine universally  presided,  though  other 
ladies  were  invited. 

In  the  pleasant  mansion  of  Josephine,  Napo- 
leon was  in  the  habit  of  meeting  a small  circle 
of  select  friends,  who  were  strongly  attached 
to  J osephine,  and  who  were  able,  and  for  her 
sake  were  willing  to  promote  his  interests. 
Napoleon  was  a man  of  strong  affections,  but  of 
stronger  ambition.  Josephine  was  entirely  sat- 
isfied with  the  singleness  and  the  ardor  of  his 
love.  She  sometimes  trembled  in  view  of  its 
violence.  She  often  remarked  to  her  friends 
that  he  was  incomparably  the  most  fascinating 
man  she  had  ever  met.  All  have  equally  are 


86 


JOSEPHINE. 


tested  Napoleon's  unrivaled  powers  of  pleasing, 
whenever  it  suited  his  purpose  to  make  the 
effort.  The  winter  thus  rapidly  and  pleas- 
antly passed  away. 


JOSEPHINE  IN  ITALY. 


87 


CHAPTER  VI. 

JOSEPHINE  IN  ITALY. 

On  the  9th  of  March,  1796,  Josephine  was 
married  to  Napoleon.  The  Revolution  had 
swept  away  everything  that  was  sacred  in  hu- 
man and  divine  institutions,  and  the  attempt 
had  been  made  to  degrade  marriage  into  a mere 
partnership,  which  any  persons  might  con- 
tract or  dissolve  at  pleasure.  According  to 
the  Revolutionary  form,  Josephine  and  Napo- 
leon presented  themselves  before  a magistrate, 
and  simply  announced  their  union.  A few 
friends  attended  as  witnesses,  of  the  ceremony. 

Napoleon  had,  in  the  mean  time,  been  ap- 
pointed commander  of  the  French  forces  in 
Italy.  In  twelve  days  after  his  nuptials,  he 
left  his  bride  and  hastened  to  the  army,  then 
in  the  lowest  state  of  poverty  and  suffering. 
The  veteran  generals,  when  they  first  saw  the 
pale-faced  youth  who  was  placed  over  them  all, 
were  disposed  to  treat  him  with  contempt. 
Hardly  an  hour  elapsed  after  his  arrival  ere 
they  felt  and  admitted  that  he  was  their 


88 


JOSEPHINE. 


master.  He  seemed  insensible  to  mental  ex- 
haustion, or  fatigue,  or  hunger,  or  want  of 
sleep.  He  was  upon  horseback  night  and  day. 
Almost  supernatural  activity  was  infused  into 
the  army.  It  fell  like  an  avalanche  upon  the 
Austrians.  In  fifteen  days  after  he  took  com- 
mand, he  proclaimed  to  his  exulting  and  vic- 
torious troops, 

“ Soldiers  ! you  have  gained  in  fifteen  days 
six  victories,  taken  one-and-twenty  standards, 
fifty-five  pieces  of  cannon,  many  strong  places, 
and  conquered  the  richest  part  of  Piedmont ; 
you  have  made  fifteen  thousand  prisoners,  and 
killed  or  wounded  ten  thousand  men.” 

Paris  was  perfectly  intoxicated  with  the  an- 
nouncement, day  after  day,  of  these  brilliant 
achievements.  The  name  of  Napoleon  was 
upon  every  lip,  and  all  France  resounded  with 
his  praises.  €C  This  young  commander,”  said 
one  of  the  discomfited  veteran  generals  of  the 
Austrian  army,  “ knows  nothing  whatever 
about  the  art  of  war.  He  is  a perfect  igno- 
ramus. He  sets  at  defiance  all  the  established 
rules  of  military  tactics.  There  is  no  doing 
anything  with  him.” 

Napoleon,  after  a series  of  terrible  conflicts 
and  most  signal  triumphs,  drove  the  Austrians 
out  of  Italy,  pursued  them  into  their  own  coun- 
try and  at  Leoben,  almost  within  sight  of  the 
steeples  of  Vienna,  dictated  a peace,  which 


JOSEPHINE  IN  ITALY. 


89 


crowned  him,  in  the  estimation  of  his  country- 
men, with  the  highest  glory.  Josephine  now 
went  from  Paris  to  Italy  to  meet  her  trium- 
phant husband.  They  took  up  their  residence 
at  the  Castle  of  Montebello,  a most  delightful 
country  seat  in  the  vicinity  of  Milan. 

And  here  Josephine  passed  a few  months  of 
almost  unalloyed  happiness.  The  dark  and 
tempestuous  days  through  which  she  had  re- 
cently been  led,  had  prepared  her  to  enjoy  most 
exquisitely  the  calm  which  ensued.  She  had 
been  in  the  deepest  penury.  She  was  now  in 
the  enjoyment  of  all  that  wealth  could  confer. 
She  had  been  widowed  and  homeless.  She  was 
now  the  wife  of  a victorious  general  whose 
fame  was  reverberating  through  Europe,  and 
her  home  combined  almost  every  conceivable 
attraction.  She  had  been  a prisoner  doomed 
to  die,  and  her  very  jailer  feared  to  speak  to  her 
in  tones  of  kindness.  Now  she  was  caressed  by 
nobles  and  princes  ; all  the  splendors  of  a court 
surrounded  her,  and  every  heart  did  her  homage. 
Josephine  presided  at  all  her  receptions  and  en- 
tertainments with  an  elegance  of  manner  so 
winning  as  perfectly  to  fascinate  the  Milanese. 

“I  conquer  provinces,”  said  Napoleon  of  her 
at  that  time,  “ but  Josephine  wins  hearts.”  The 
vicinity  of  Montebello  combines  perhaps  as  much 
of  the  beautiful  and  the  sublime  in  scenery  as 
can  be  found  at  any  other  spot  on  the  surface 


90 


JOSEPHINE. 


of  the  globe.  Napoleon  sympathized  most  cor- 
dially with  Josephine  in  her  appreciation  of  the 
beautiful  and  the  romantic  ; and  though  he 
devoted  the  energies  of  his  mind,  with  unsleep- 
ing diligence,  to  the  ambitious  plans  which  en- 
grossed him,  he  found  time  for  many  delightful 
excursions  with  his  fascinating  bride.  There 
is  not,  perhaps,  in  Italy  a more  lovely  drive  than 
that  from  Milan,  along  the  crystal  waters  of 
Lake  Como  to  Lake  Maggiore.  This  romantic 
lake,  embosomed  among  the  mountains,  with  its 
densely  wooded  islands  and  picturesque  shores, 
was  a favorite  resort  for  excursions  of  pleasure. 
Here,  in  gay  parties,  they  floated  m boats,  with 
well-trained  rowers,  and  silken  awnings,  and 
streaming  pennants  and  ravishing  music.  The 
island  of  Isola  Bella,  or  Beautiful  Island , with 
its  arcades,  its  hanging  gardens,  and  its  palace 
of  monkish  gloom,  was  Napoleon's  favorite  land- 
ing-place. Here  they  often  partook  of  refresh- 
ments, and  engaged  with  all  vivacity  in  rural 
festivities.  It  is  stated  that,  while  enjoying  one 
of  these  excursions,  Josephine,  with  one  or  two 
other  ladies,  was  standing  under  a beautiful 
orange-tree,  loaded  with  fruit,  with  the  atten- 
tion of  the  party  all  absorbed  in  admiring  the 
beauties  of  the  distant  landscape.  Napoleon, 
unperceived,  crept  up  the  tree,  and  by  a sudden 
shake  brought  down  quite  a shower  of  the  golden 
fruit  upon  the  ladies,  The  companions  of  Jo- 


Page  90  ISOIyA  BEL/IyA. 


JOSEPHINE  IN  ITALY. 


91 


sephine  screamed  with  affright  and  ran  from  the 
tree.  She,  however,  accustomed  to  such  pleas- 
antries, suspected  the  source,  and  remained  un- 
moved. “ Why,  Josephine  ! ” exclaimed  Napo- 
leon, “ you  stand  fire  like  one  of  my  veterans.” 
“ And  why  should  I not  ? ” she  promptly  re- 
plied ; “am  1 not  the  wife  of  their  com- 
mander ?” 

Napoleon,  during  these  scenes  of  apparent 
relaxation,  had  but  one  thought — ambition. 
His  capacious  mind  was  ever  restless,  ever  ex- 
cited, not  exactly  with  the  desire  of  personal 
aggrandizement,  but  of  mighty  enterprise,  of 
magnificent  achievement.  J osephine,  with  her 
boundless  popularity  and  her  arts  of  persuasion, 
though  she  often  trembled  in  view  of  the  limit- 
less aspirations  of  her  husband,  was  extremely 
influential  in  winning  to  him  the  powerful 
friends  by  whom  they  were  surrounded. 

The  achievements  which  Napoleon  accom- 
plished during  the  short  Italian  campaign  are 
perhaps  unparalleled  in  ancient  or  modern  war- 
fare. 

With  a number  of  men  under  his  command 
ever  inferior  to  the  forces  of  the  Austrians,  he 
maneuvered  always  to  secure,  at  any  one  point, 
an  array  superior  to  that  of  his  antagonists.  He 
cut  up  four  several  armies  which  were  sent  from 
Austria  to  oppose  him,  took  one  hundred  and 
fifteen  thousand  prisoners,  one  hundred  and  sev- 


92 


JOSEPHINE. 


enty  standards,  eleven  hundred  and  forty  pieces 
of  battering  cannon  and  field  artillery,  and 
drove  the  Austrians  from  the  frontiers  of  France 
to  the  walls  of  Vienna.  He  was  everywhere 
hailed  as  the  liberator  of  Italy  ; and,  encircled 
with  the  pomp  and  the  power  of  a monarch,  he 
received  such  adulations  as  monarchs  rarely 
enjoy. 

The  Directory  in  Paris  began  to  tremble  in 
view  of  the  gigantic  strides  which  this  ambi- 
tious general  was  making.  They  surrounded 
him  with  spies  to  gamer  up  his  words,  to  watch 
his  actions,  and,  if  possible,  to  detect  his  plans. 
But  the  marble  face  of  this  incomprehensible 
youth  told  no  secrets.  Even  to  Josephine  he 
revealed  not  his  intentions  ; and  no  mortal 
scrutiny  could  explore  the  thoughts  fermenting 
in  his  deep  and  capacious  mind.  His  personal 
appearance  at  this  time  is  thus  described  by 
an  observer  of  his  triumphal  entrance  into 
Milan  : 

“I  beheld  with  deep  interest  and  extreme  at- 
tention that  extraordinary  man  who  has  per- 
formed such  great  deeds,  and  about  whom  there 
is  something  which  seems  to  indicate  that  his 
career  is  not  yet  terminated.  I found  him  very 
like  his  portrait,  small  in  stature,  thin,  pale, 
with  the  air  of  fatigue,  but  not  in  ill  health. 
He  appeared  to  me  to  listen  with  more  abstrac- 
tion than  interest,  as  if  occupied  rather  with 


JOSEPHINE  IN  ITALY. 


93 


what  he  was  thinking  of  than  with  what  was 
said  to  him.  There  is  great  intelligence  in  his 
countenance,  along  with  an  expression  of  habit- 
ual meditation,  which  reveals  nothing  of  what 
is  passing  within.  In  that  thinking  head,  in 
that  daring  mind,  it  is  impossible  not  to  sup- 
pose that  some  designs  are  engendering  which 
shall  have  their  influence  upon  the  desti- 
nies of  Europe.” 

Napoleon  was  fully  confident  of  the  jealousy 
he  had  aroused,  and  of  the  vigilance  with  which 
he  was  watched.  His  caution  often  wounded 
Josephine,  as  he  was  as  impenetrable  to  her  in 
reference  to  all  his  political  plans  as  to  any  one 
else.  While  she  at  times  loved  him  almost  to 
adoration,  she  ever  felt  in  awe  of  the  unexplored 
recesses  of  his  mind.  He  appeared  frequently 
lost  in  thought,  and,  perfectly  regardless  of  the 
pomp  and  the  pageantry  with  which  he  was 
surrounded,  he  gave  unmistakable  indications 
that  he  regarded  the  achievements  he  had  al- 
ready accomplished  as  very  trivial — merely  the 
commencement  of  his  career.  She  once  re- 
marked to  a friend,  “ During  the  many  years 
we  have  now  passed  together,  1 never  once  be- 
held Bonaparte  for  a moment  at  ease — not  even 
with  myself.  He  is  constantly  on  the  alert.  If 
at  any  time  he  appears  to  show  a little  confi- 
dence, it  is  merely  a feint  to  throw  the  person 
with  whom  he  is  conversing  off  his  guard,  and 


94 


JOSEPHINE. 


to  draw  forth  his  real  sentiments,  but  never 
does  he  himself  disclose  his  own  thoughts.” 

Napoleon  now  deemed  it  expedient  to  visit 
Paris  ; for  he  despised  the  weakness  and  the  in- 
efficiency of  those  who,  amid  the  surges  of  the 
Revolution,  had  been  elevated  there  to  the  su- 
preme power,  and  already  he  secretly  contem- 
plated the  overthrow  of  the  government,  as  soon 
as  an  opportunity  promising  success  should  be 
presented.  Josephine,  with  her  children,  re- 
mained in  Milan,  that  she  might  continue  to 
dazzle  the  eyes  of  the  Milanese  with  the  splen- 
dor of  the  establishment  of  the  Liberator  of 
Italy,  and  that  she  might  watch  over  the  inter- 
ests of  her  illustrious  spouse. 

She  gave  splendid  entertainments.  Her  sa- 
loons were  ever  thronged  with  courtiers,  and 
the  inimitable  grace  she  possessed  enabled  her, 
with  ease  and  self-enjoyment,  to  preside  with 
queenly  dignity  over  every  scene  of  gaiety. 
She  was  often  weary  of  this  incessant  grandeur 
and  display,  but  the  wishes  of  her  husband  and 
her  peculiar  position  seemed  to  afford  her 
no  choice.  Napoleon  unquestionably  loved 
Josephine  as  ardently  as  he  was  capable  of  lov- 
ing any  one.  He  kept  up  a constant,  almost 
daily  correspondence  with  her.  Near  the  close 
of  his  life,  he  declared  that  he  was  indebted  to 
her  for  every  moment  of  happiness  he  had  known 
on  earth.  Ambition  was,  however,  with  Napo- 


JOSEPHINE  IN  ITALY. 


95 


leon  a far  more  powerful  passion  than  love.  He 
was  fully  conscious  that  he  needed  the  assistance 
of  his  most  accomplished  wife  to  raise  him  to 
that  elevation  he  was  resolved  to  attain.  Self- 
reliant  as  he  was,  regardless  as  he  ever  appeared 
to  be  of  the  opinions  or  the  advice  of  others, 
the  counsel  of  Josephine  had  more  influence 
over  him  than  perhaps  that  of  all  other  persons 
combined.  Her  expostulations  not  unfre- 
quently  modified  his  plans,  though  his  high 
spirit  could  not  brook  the  acknowledgment. 
Hortense  and  Eugene  were  with  Josephine  at 
Milan.  Eugene,  though  but  seventeen  years  of 
age,  had  joined  Napoleon  in  the  field  as  one  of 
his  aids,  and  had  signalized  himself  by  many 
acts  of  bravery. 

In  this  arrangement  we  see  an  indication  of 
the  plans  of  boundless  ambition  which  were  al- 
ready maturing  in  the  mind  of  Bonaparte.  The 
Italians  hated  their  proud  and  domineering 
masters,  the  Austrians.  They  almost  adored 
Napoleon  as  their  deliverer.  He  had  established 
the  Cisalpine  Republic,  and  conferred  upon 
them  a degree  of  liberty  which  for  ages  they 
had  not  enjoyed.  Napoleon  had  but  to  unfurl 
his  banner,  and  the  Italians,  in  countless 
thousands,  were  ready  to  rally  around  it.  The 
army  in  Italy  regarded  the  Little  Corporal  with 
sentiments  of  veneration  and  affection,  for 
which  we  may  search  history  in  vain  for  a 


96 


JOSEPHINE. 


parallel.  Italy  consequently  became  the  base 
of  Napoleon’s  operations.  There  he  was 
strongly  intrenched.  In  case  of  failure  in  any 
of  his  operations  in  Paris,  he  could  retire  be- 
hind the  Alps,  and  bid  defiance  to  his  foes. 

Josephine  was  exactly  the  partner  he  needed 
to  protect  these  all-important  interests  during 
his  absence.  Her  strong  and  active  intelligence, 
her  sincerity,  her  unrivaled  powers  of  fascinat- 
ing all  who  approached  her,  and  her  entire  de- 
votion to  Napoleon,  rendered  her  an  ally  of  ex- 
ceeding efficiency.  Powerful  as  was  the  arm 
of  Napoleon,  he  never  could  have  risen  to  the 
greatness  he  attained  without  the  aid  of  Jo- 
sephine. She,  at  Milan,  kept  up  the  splendor 
of  a royal  court.  The  pleasure-loving  Italians 
ever  thronged  her  saloons.  The  most  illustri- 
ous nobles  were  emulous  to  win  her  favor,  that 
they  might  obtain  eminence  in  the  service  of 
her  renowned  spouse.  At  the  fetes  and  enter- 
tainments she  gave  to  the  rejoicing  Milanese, 
she  obtained  access  to  almost  every  mind  it  was 
desirable  to  influence.  No  one  could  approach 
Josephine  without  becoming  her  friend,  and  a 
friend  once  gained  was  never  lost.  A weak 
woman,  under  these  circumstances,  which  so 
severely  tested  the  character,  would  have  been 
often  extremely  embarrassed,  and  would  have 
made  many  mistakes.  It  was  remarkable  in 
Josephine,  that,  notwithstanding  the  seclusion 


JOSEPHINE  IN  ITALY. 


97 


of  her  childhood  and  early  youth,  she  ever  ap- 
peared self-possessed,  graceful,  and  at  home 
in  every  situation  in  which  she  was  placed.  She 
moved  through  the  dazzling  scenes  of  her  court 
air  Milan,  scenes  of  unaccustomed  brilliance 
which  had  so  suddenly  burst  upon  her,  with  an 
air  as  entirely  natural  and  unembarrassed  as  if 
her  whole  life  had  been  passed  in  the  saloons 
of  monarchs.  She  conversed  with  the  most 
distinguished  generals  of  armies,  with  nobles  of 
the  highest  rank,  with  statesmen  and  scholars 
of  wide-spread  renown,  with  a fluency,  an  ap- 
propriateness, and  an  inimitable  tact  which 
would  seem  to  indicate  that  she  had  been 
cradled  in  the  lap  of  princes,  and  nurtured  in  the 
society  of  courts.  It  seemed  never  to  be  neces- 
sary for  her  to  study  the  rules  of  etiquette.  She 
was  never  accustomed  to  look  to  others  to  as- 
certain what  conduct  was  proper  under  any  cir- 
cumstances. Instinctive  delicacy  was  her  un- 
erring teacher,  and  from  her  bearing  others 
compiled  their  code  of  politeness.  She  became 
the  queen  of  etiquette,  not  the  subject. 

Thus,  while  Napoleon,  in  Paris,  was  cau- 
tiously scrutinizing  the  state  of  public  affairs, 
and  endeavoring  to  gain  a position  there,  Jo- 
sephine, with  the  entire  concentration  of  all  her 
energies  to  his  interests,  was  gaining  for  him 
in  Milan  vast  accessions  of  power.  She  had  no 
conception,  indeed,  of  the  greatness  he  was  des- 
7 


98 


JOSEPHINE. 


tined  to  attain.  But  she  loved  her  husband. 
She  was  proud  of  his  rising  renown,  and  it  was 
her  sole  ambition  to  increase,  in  every  way  in 
her  power,  the  luster  of  his  name.  Aristocracy 
circled  around  her  in  delighted  homage,  while 
poverty,  charmed  by  her  sympathy  and  her  be- 
neficence, ever  greeted  her  with  acclamations. 
The  exploits  of  Napoleon  dazzled  the  world,  and 
the  unthinking  world  has  attributed  his  great- 
ness to  his  own  unaided  arm.  But  the  gentle- 
ness of  Josephine  was  one  of  the  essential  ele- 
ments in  the  promotion  of  his  greatness.  In 
co-operation  with  her,  he  rose.  As  soon  as  he 
abandoned  her,  he  fell. 

Josephine  soon  rejoined  her  husband  in  Pa- 
ris, where  she  very  essentially  aided,  by  her  fas- 
cinating powers  of  persuasion,  in  disarming  the 
hostility  of  those  who  were  jealous  of  his  rising 
fame,  and  in  attaching  to  him  such  adherents 
as  could  promote  his  interests.  In  the  saloons 
of  Josephine,  many  of  the  most  heroic  youths 
of  France  were  led  to  ally  their  fortunes  with 
those  of  the  young  general,  whose  fame  had  so 
suddenly  burst  upon  the  world.  She  had  the 
rare  faculty  of  diffusing  animation  and  cheer- 
fulness wherever  she  appeared.  “ It  is,”  she 
once  beautifully  remarked,  “ a necessity  of  my 
heart  to  love  others,  and  to  be  loved  by  them 
in  return.”  “ There  is  only  one  occasion,”  she 
again  said,  “ in  which  I would  voluntarily  use 


JOSEPHINE  IN  ITALY. 


99 


the  words  I will , namely,  when  I would  say, 
‘ I will  that  all  around  me  be  happy/  ” 
Napoleon  singularly  displayed  his  knowledge 
of  human  nature  in  the  course  he  pursued  upon 
his  return  to  Paris.  He  assumed  none  of  the 
pride  of  a conqueror.  He  studiously  avoided 
every  thing  like  ostentatious  display.  Day 
after  day  his  lieutenants  arrived,  bringing  the 
standards  taken  from  the  Austrians.  Pictures, 
and  statues,  and  other  works  of  art  extorted 
from  the  conquered,  were  daily  making  their 
appearance,  keeping  the  metropolis  in  a state 
of  the  most  intense  excitement.  The  Parisians 
were  never  weary  of  reading  and  re-reading 
those  extraordinary  proclamations  of  Napoleon, 
which,  in  such  glowing  language,  described  his 
almost  miraculous  victories.  The  enthusiasm 
of  the  people  was  thus  raised  to  the  highest 
pitch.  The  anxiety  of  the  public  to  see  this 
young  and  mysterious  victor  was  intense  be- 
yond description.  But  he  knew  enough  of  the 
human  heart  to  be  conscious  that,  by  avoiding 
the  gratification  of  these  wishes,  he  did  but  en- 
hance their  intensity.  Modestly  retiring  to  an 
unostentatious  mansion  in  the  Rue  Chante- 
reine,  which,  in  compliment  to  him,  had  re- 
ceived the  name  of  Rue  de  la  Victoire,  he 
secluded  himself  from  the  public  gaze.  He  de- 
voted his  time  most  assiduously  to  study,  and 
to  conversation  with  learned  men.  He  laid 


100 


JOSEPHINE. 


aside  his  military  garb,  and  assumed  the  plain 
dress  of  a member  of  the  Institute.  When  he 
walked  the  streets,  he  was  seldom  recognized 
by  the  people.  Though  his  society  was  courted 
in  the  highest  circles  of  Paris,  his  ambition  was 
too  lofty  to  be  gratified  with  shining  among 
the  stars  of  fashion.  Though  he  had  as  yet 
reached  but  the  twenty-sixth  year  of  his  age,  he 
had  already  gained  the  reputation  of  being  the 
first  of  generals.  He  was  emulous  not  only  of 
appearing  to  be,  but  also  of  actually  being,  an 
accomplished  scholar.  “ I well  knew,”  said  he, 
“ that  the  lowest  drummer  in  the  army  would 
respect  me  more  for  being  a scholar  as  well  as  a 
soldier.” 

Napoleon  might  have-  enriched  himself  be- 
yond all  bounds  in  his  Italian  campaign  had  he 
been  disposed  to  do  so.  Josephine,  at  times, 
remonstrated  against  his  personal  habits  of 
economy,  while  he  was  conferring  millions 
added  to  millions  upon  France.  But  the  am- 
bition of  her  husband,  inordinate  as  it  was, 
was  as  sublime  an  ambition  as  any  one  could 
feel  in  view  of  merely  worldly  interests.  He 
wished  to  acquire  the  renown  of  benefiting 
mankind  by  the  performance  of  the  noblest 
exploits.  His  ultimate  end  was  his  own  fame. 
But  he  knew  that  the  durability  of  that  fame 
could  only  be  secured  by  the  accomplishment 
of  noble  ends. 


JOSEPHINE  IN  ITALY. 


101 


The  effeminate  figure  of  Napoleon  in  these 
early  days  had  caused  the  soldiers  to  blend 
with  their  amazed  admiration  of  his  military 
genius  a kind  of  fondness  of  affection  for 
which  no  parallel  can  be  found  in  ancient  or 
modern  story.  The  soldiers  were  ever  rehears- 
ing to  one  another,  by  their  night-fires  and  in 
their  long  marches,  anecdotes  of  his  perfect 
fearlessness,  his  brilliant  sayings,  his  imperious 
bearing,  by  which  he  overawed  the  haughtiness 
of  aristocratic  power,  and  his  magnanimous 
acts  toward  the  poor  and  the  lowly. 

One  night,  when  the  army  in  Italy  was  in 
great  peril,  worn  out  with  the  fatigue  of  sleep- 
lessness and  of  battle,  and  surrounded  by  Aus- 
trians, Napoleon  was  taking  the  round  of  his 
posts  in  disguise,  to  ascertain  the  vigilance  of 
his  sentinels.  He  found  one  poor  soldier,  in 
perfect  exhaustion,  asleep  at  his  post.  Napo- 
leon shouldered  his  musket,  and  stood  sentry 
for  him  for  half  an  hour.  When  the  man 
awoke  and  recognized  the  countenance  of  his 
general,  he  sank  back  upon  the  ground  in  ter- 
ror and  despair.  He  knew  that  death  was  the 
doom  for  such  a crime.  “ Here,  comrade,” 
said  Napoleon,  kindly,  “ here  is  your  musket. 
You  have  fought  hard  and  marched  long,  and 
your  sleep  is  excusable.  But  a moment’s  inat- 
tention might  at  present  ruin  the  army.  I hap- 
pened to  be  awake,  and  have  guarded  your 


102 


JOSEPHINE. 


post  for  you.  You  will  be  more  careful  another 
time.” 

At  the  “ terrible  passage  of  the  bridge  of 
Lodi,”  Napoleon  stood  at  one  of  the  guns,  in 
the  very  hottest  of  the  fire,  directing  it  with 
his  own  hand.  The  soldiers,  delighted  at  this 
very  unusual  exhibition  of  the  readiness  of 
their  general  to  share  all  the  toils  and  perils  of 
the  humblest  private  in  the  ranks,  gave  him 
the  honorary  and  affectionate  nickname  of 
“ The  Little  Corporal.”  By  this  appellation 
he  was  afterward  universally  known  in  the 
army.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  soldiers  invested 
him  with  supernatural  endowments,  and  every 
one  was  ready  at  any  moment  to  peril  life  for 
the  Little  Corporal. 

The  government  at  Paris,  rapidly  waning 
in  popularity,  notwithstanding  their  extreme 
jealousy  of  the  wide-spreading  influence  of  this 
victorious  general,  was  compelled,  by  the  spon- 
taneous acclamations  of  the  people,  to  give  him 
a public  triumph,  when  the  famous  treaty 
which  Napoleon  had  effected  in  Italy  was  to  be 
formally  presented  to  the  Directory.  The  mag- 
nificent court  of  the  Luxembourg  was  embel- 
lished with  the  flags  of  the  armies  which  he 
had  conquered,  and  the  youthful  hero  of  Lodi, 
of  Areola,  and  of  Bivoli  made  his  first  tri- 
umphant appearance  in  the  streets  of  Paris. 
The  enthusiasm  of  the  vast  concourse  of  ex- 


JOSEPHINE  IN  ITALY. 


103 


citable  Parisians  overleaped  all  bounds.  The 
soldiers  of  the  proud  army  of  Italy  sang  at 
their  encampments,, in  enthusiastic  chorus,a  song 
in  which  they  declared  that  it  was  high  time 
to  eject  the  lawyers  from  the  government,  and 
make  the  Little  Corporal  the  ruler  of  France. 
Barras,  the  friend  of  Josephine,  who  had  se- 
lected Napoleon  to  quell  the  insurrection  in 
Paris,  and  who  had  secured  to  him  the  com- 
mand of  the  army  of  Italy,  declared  in  a eulo- 
gistic speech  on  this  occasion  that  “Nature 
had  exhausted  all  her  powers  in  the  creation  of 
a Bonaparte/5  This  sentiment  was  received 
with  the  most  deafening  peals  of  applause. 

But  how  like  the  phantasmagoria  of  magic 
has  this  change  burst  upon  the  bewildered  Jo- 
sephine. But  a few  months  before,  her  hus- 
band, wan  and  wasted  with  imprisonment  and 
woe,  had  been  led  from  the  subterranean  dun- 
geons of  this  very  palace,  with  the  execrations 
of  the  populace  torturing  his  ear,  to  bleed 
upon  the  scaffold.  She,  also,  was  then  herself 
a prisoner,  without  even  a pillow  for  her  weary 
head,  awaiting  the  dawn  of  the  morning  which 
was  to  conduct  her  steps  to  a frightful  death. 
Her  children,  Hortense  and  Eugene,  had  been 
rescued  from  homelessness,  friendlessness,  and 
beggary  only  by  the  hand  of  charity,  and  were 
dependent  upon  that  charity  for  shelter  and 
for  daily  bread.  Now  the  weeds  of  widowhood 


104 


JOSEPHINE. 


have  given  place  to  the  robes  of  the  rejoicing 
bride,  and  that  palace  is  gorgeously  decorated 
in  honor  of  the  world-renowned  companion 
upon  whose  arm  she  proudly  leans.  The  accla- 
mations resounding  to  his  praise  reverberate 
over  mountain  and  valley,  through  every  city 
and  village  of  France.  Princes,  ambassadors, 
and  courtiers,  obsequiously  crowd  the  saloons 
of  Josephine.  Eugene,  an  officer  in  the  army, 
high  in  rank  and  honor,  is  lured  along  life's 
perilous  pathway  by  the  most  brilliant  pros- 
pects. Hortense,  in  dazzling  beauty,  and  sur- 
rounded by  admirers,  is  intoxicated  with  the 
splendor,  which,  like  Oriental  enchantment, 
has  burst  upon  her  view. 

Josephine,  so  beautifully  called  “the  Star  of 
Napoleon,"  was  more  than  the  harbinger  of  his 
rising.  She  gave  additional  luster  to  his  bril- 
liance, and  was  as  the  gentle  zephyr,  which 
sweeps  away  the  mists  and  vapors,  and  pre- 
sents a transparent  sky  through  which  the 
undiinmed  luminary  may  shine.  Her  persua- 
sive influence  was  unweariedly  and  most 
successfully  exerted  in  winning  friends  and  in 
disarming  adversaries.  The  admiration  which 
was  excited  for  the  stern  warrior  in  his  solitary, 
silent,  unapproachable  grandeur,  whose  gar- 
ments had  been  dyed  in  blood,  whose  fearful 
path  had  been  signalized  by  conflagrations,  and 
shrieks,  and  the  wailings  of  the  dying,  was 


JOSEPHINE  IN  ITALY. 


105 


humanized  and  softened  by  the  gentle  loveliness 
of  his  companion,,  who  was  ever  a ministering 
angel,  breathing  words  of  kindness,  and  diffus- 
ing around  her  the  spirit  of  harmony  and  love. 
Napoleon  ever  freely  acknowledged  his  indebt- 
edness to  Josephine  for  her  aid  in  these  morn- 
ing hours  of  his  greatness. 

But  unalloyed  happiness  is  never  allotted  to 
mortals.  Josephine's  very  loveliness  of  person 
and  of  character  was  to  her  the  occasion  of 
many  hours  of  heaviness.  No  one  could  be  in- 
sensible to  the  power  of  her  attractions.  The 
music  of  her  voice,  the  sweetness  of  her  smile, 
the  grace  of  her  manners,  excited  so  much  ad- 
miration, invested  her  with  a popularity  so 
universal  and  enthusiastic,  that  Napoleon  was, 
at  times,  not  a little  disturbed  by  jealousy. 
Her  appearance  was  ever  the  signal  for  crowds 
to  gather  around  her.  The  most  distinguished 
and  the  most  gallant  men  in  France  vied  with 
each  other  in  doing  her  homage.  Some  of  the 
relatives  of  Napoleon,  envious  of  the  influence 
she  exerted  over  her  illustrious  spouse,  and 
anxious,  by  undermining  her  power,  to  subserve 
their  own  interests,  were  untiring  in  their  en- 
deavors to  foster  all  these  jealousies.  Josephine 
was  exceedingly  pained  by  the  occasional  indi- 
cations of  her  husband^  distrust.  A word 
from  his  lips,  a glance  from  his  eye,  often  sent 
her  to  her  chamber  with  weeping  eyes  and  an 


106 


JOSEPHINE. 


aching  heart.  An  interview  with  her  husband, 
however,  invariably  removed  his  suspicions, and 
he  gave  her  renewed  assurances  of  his  confi- 
dence and  his  love. 

The  plans  of  Napoleon  in  reference  to  his 
future  operations  were  still  in  a state  of  great 
uncertainty.  His  restless  spirit  could  not  brook 
inactivity.  He  saw  clearly  that  the  time  had 
not  yet  come  in  which  he  could,  with  the  pros- 
pect of  success,  undertake  to  overthrow  the 
Revolutionary  government  and  grasp  the  reins 
of  power  himself.  To  use  his  own  expressive 
language,  “The  pear  was  not  yet  ripe.”  To 
one  of  his  intimate  friends  he  remarked,  “ They 
do  not  long  preserve  at  Paris  the  remembrance 
of  anything.  If  I remain  any  length  of  time 
unemployed,  I am  undone.  The  renown  of 
one,  in  this  great  Babylon,  speedily  supplants 
that  of  another.  If  I am  seen  three  times  at 
the  opera,  I shall  no  longer  be  an  object  of 
curiosity.  You  need  not  talk  of  the  desire  of 
the  citizens  to  see  me.  Crowds,  at  least  as 
great,  would  go  to  see  me  led  out  to  the  scaffold. 
I am  determined  not  to  remain  in  Paris. 
There  is  nothing  here  to  be  done.  Everything 
here  passes  away.  My  glory  is  already  declin- 
ing. This  little  corner  of  Europe  is  too  small 
to  supply  it.  We  must  go  to  the  East.  All 
the  great  men  of  the  world  have  there  acquired 
their  celebrity.  We  will  go  to  Egypt.” 


JOSEPHINE  IN  ITALY. 


107 


Such  was  the  grandeur  of  the  dreams  of  a 
young  man  who  had  not  yet  passed  his  twenty- 
sixth  year.  And  these  were  not  the  musings  of 
a wild  and  visionary  brain,  but  the  deeply  laid 
and  cautiously  guarded  plans  of  a mind  which 
had  meditated  profoundly  upon  all  probable 
emergencies,  and  which  had  carefully  weighed 
all  the  means  which  could  be  furnished  for  the 
accomplishment  of  an  enterprise  so  arduous  and 
so  majestic. 


108 


JOSEPHINE. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

JOSEPHINE  AT  MALMAISON. 

The  Directory  in  Paris  became  daily  more 
and  more  alarmed,,  in  view  of  the  vast  and  ever- 
increasing  popularity  of  the  conqueror  of  Italy. 
A plan  had  been  formed  for  the  invasion  of 
England,  and  this  was  deemed  a good  oppor- 
tunity for  sending  from  France  their  dangerous 
rival.  Napoleon  was  appointed  commander-in- 
chief of  the  army  of  England.  He  visited  the 
coast,  and  devoted  ten  days  and  nights,  with 
his  extraordinary  rapidity  of  apprehension,  in 
investigating  the  prospects  of  success.  He  re- 
turned to  Paris,  saying,  “ It  is  too  doubtful  a 
chance.  I will  not  hazard  on  such  a throw  the 
fate  of  France.  ” All  his  energies  were  then 
turned  to  his  Egyptian  expedition.  He  hoped 
to  gain  reputation  and  power  in  Egypt,  pass 
through  into  India,  raise  an  army  of  natives, 
headed  by  European  officers,  and  energized  by 
an  infusion  of  European  soldiers,  and  thus  drive 
the  English  out  of  India.  It  was  a bold  plan. 
The  very  grandeur  of  the  enterprise  roused  the 


JOSEPHINE  AT  MALMAISON.  109 

enthusiasm  of  France.  The  Directory,  secretly 
rejoicing  at  the  prospect  of  sending  Napoleon 
so  far  away,  and  hoping  that  he  would  perish 
on  the  sands  of  Africa,  without  much  reluc- 
tance agreed  to  his  proposal. 

Napoleon  never  loved  the  Kevolution,  and  he 
most  thoroughly  detested  the  infamous  and 
sanguinary  despotism  which  had  risen  upon  the 
ruins  of  the  altar  and  the  throne.  He  chanced 
to  be  in  Paris  when  the  drunken  and  ragged 
mob,  like  an  inundation,  broke  into  the  Tuille- 
ries,  and  heaped  upon  the  humiliated  Louis 
XVI.  and  Maria  Antoinette  the  most  infamous 
outrages.  He  saw  the  monarch  standing  at  the 
window  of  his  palace,  with  the  dirty  red  cap 
of  Jacobinism  thrust  upon  that  brow  which 
had  worn  the  crown  of  Charlemagne.  At  the 
sight,  the  blood  boiled  in  the  veins  of  the  youth- 
ful Napoleon.  He  could  not  endure  the  spec- 
tacle. Turning  upon  his  heel,  he  indignantly 
exclaimed,  “ The  wretches  ! had  they  mown 
down  four  or  five  hundred  with  grape-shot,  the 
rest  would  speedily  have  taken  to  flight.” 

He  often  expressed  his  dislike  of  the  violent 
revolutionary  course  which  the  Directory  were 
pursuing,  and  stated  freely  to  his  friends,  “ For 
my  part,  I declare,  that  if  I had  only  the  option 
between  royalty  and  the  system  of  these  gentle- 
men, I would  not  hesitate  for  one  moment  to 
declare  for  a king.”  Just  before  Napoleon  em- 


110 


JOSEPHINE. 


barked  for  the  East,  Bourrienne  asked  him  if 
he  was  really  determined  to  risk  his  fate  on  the 
perilous  expedition  to  Egypt.  “Yes!”  he 
replied  “ If  I should  remain  here,  it  would 
be  necessary  to  overturn  this  miserable  govern- 
ment, and  make  myself  king.  But  we  must  not 
think  of  that  yet.  The  nobles  will  not  consent 
to  it.  I have  sounded,  but  I find  the  time  for 
that  has  not  yet  arrived.  I must  first  dazzle 
these  gentlemen  by  my  exploits.” 

On  the  morning  of  the  19th  of  May,  1798, 
the  fleet  set  sail  from  the  harbor  of  Toulon. 
It  was  a morning  of  surpassing  loveliness,  and 
seldom,  if  ever,  has  the  unclouded  sun  shone 
upon  a more  brilliant  scene.  . The  magnificent 
armament  extended  over  a semicircle  of  not  less 
than  eighteen  miles.  The  fleet  consisted  of 
thirteen  ships  of  the  line,  fourteen  frigates,  and 
four  hundred  transports.  They  carried  forty 
thousand  picked  soldiers,  and  officers  of  the 
highest  celebrity.  Eor  the  first  time  in  the 
world,  a corps  of  scientific  gentlemen  was 
attached  to  a military  expedition.  One  hun- 
dred eminent  artists  and  connoisseurs  Napoleon 
had  collected  to  gather  the  antiquarian  treasures 
of  Egypt,  and  to  extend  the  boundaries  of 
science  by  the  observation  of  the  phenomena 
of  nature.  They  formed  a part  of  the  staff  of 
the  invading  army. 

Josephine  accompanied  her  husband  to 


JOSEPHINE  AT  MALMAISON.  Ill 


Toulon,  and  remained  with  him  until  his  em- 
barkation. She  was  extremely  anxious  to  go 
with  him  to  Egypt,  and  with  tears  plead  that 
he  would  allow  her  to  share  his  hardships  and 
his  perils.  Napoleon,  however,  deemed  the 
hazards  to  which  they  would  be  exposed,  and 
the  fatigues  and  sufferings  they  must  necessarily 
endure,  as  quite  too  formidable  for  Josephine 
to  encounter.  But  in  the  anguish  of  their 
parting,  which  is  described  as  most  tender, 
she  wrung  from  him  a promise  to  allow  her  to 
follow  as  soon  as  affairs  in  the  East  should 
render  it  prudent  for  her  to  do  so.  It  can  hard- 
ly be  possible,  however,  that  Napoleon  ever  ex- 
pected to  see  her  in  Egypt.  He  himself  has 
thus  described  the  objects  he  had  in  view  in 
this  vast  enterprise  : “ 1.  To  establish  on  the 
banks  of  the  Nile  a French  colony,  which  could 
exist  without  slaves,  and  supply  the  place  of 
Saint  Domingo.  2.  To  open  a market  for  the 
manufactures  of  Prance  in  Africa,  Arabia,  and 
Syria,  and  to  obtain  for  the  productions  of  his 
countrymen  the  productions  of  those  countries. 
3.  To  set  out  from  Egypt,  with  an  army  of 
sixty  thousand  men,  for  the  Indus,  rouse  the 
Mahrattas  to  a revolt,  and  excite  against  the 
English  the  population  of  those  vast  countries. 
Sixty  thousand  men,  half  Europeans,  half 
natives,  transported  on  fifty  thousand  camels 
and  ten  thousand  horses,  carrying  with  them 


112 


JOSEPHINE. 


provisions  for  fifty  days,  water  for  six,  with  one 
hundred  and  fifty  pieces  of  cannon  and  double 
ammunition,  would  arrive  in  four  months  in 
India.  The  ocean  ceased  to  be  an  obstacle 
when  vessels  were  constructed.  The  desert 
becomes  passable  the  moment  you  have  camels 
and  dromedaries  in  abundance.” 

As  the  fleet  got  under  way,  Josephine  stood 
upon  a balcony,  with  tearful  eyes,  gazing  upon 
the  scene,  so  imposing,  and  yet  so  sorrowful  to 
her.  The  Orient,  a ship  of  enormous  magni- 
tude, contained  her  husband  and  her  son.  They 
were  going  into  the  midst  of  dangers  from 
whence  it  was  doubtful  whether  they  would 
ever  return.  She  fixed  her  eyes  upon  the  ship 
as  its  lessening  sails  grew  fainter  and  fainter  in 
the  distance,  until  the  hardly  discernible  speck 
disappeared  beneath  the  horizon,  which  the 
blue  waves  of  the  Mediterranean  outlined.  She 
retired  to  her  room  with  those  feelings  of  loneli- 
ness and  desolation  which  the  circumstances 
were  so  peculiarly  calculated  to  inspire. 

It  was  arranged  that  Josephine  should  take 
up  her  residence,  until  Napoleon  should  send 
for  her,  at  Plombieres,  a celebrated  watering- 
place,  whose  medicinal  springs  were  supposed 
to  be  very  efficacious  in  restoring  maternity. 
She  sent  for  Hortense,  at  that  time  fifteen  years 
of  age,  and  who  was  then  in  the  boarding-school 
of  the  distinguished  Madame  Campan.  Jo- 


JOSEPHINE  AT  MALMAISON.  113 


sephine  wished  for  her  daughter  to  be  her  com- 
panion during  the  weary  hours  of  her  absence 
from  her  husband.  She  was  expecting  that,  as 
soon  as  a landing  should  be  effected  in  Egypt, 
a frigate  would  be  despatched  to  convey  her  to 
the  banks  of  the  Nile.  She  found  solace  during 
the  lingering  weeks  of  expectation  in  devoting 
herself  to  the  instruction  of  her  daughter. 
Her  comprehensive  and  excellent  views  on  the 
subject  of  education  are  developed  in  a letter 
which  she  at  this  time  wrote  to  Madame  Cam- 
pan,  to  accompany  a niece  who  was  to  return 
to  her  school : 

“ My  dear  Madame  Campan, — With  my 
niece,  whom  I return  to  your  charge,  receive 
also  my  thanks  and  my  reproof.  The  former 
are  due  for  the  great  care  and  brilliant  educa- 
tion which  you  have  bestowed  upon  the  child  ; 
the  latter,  for  the  faults  which  your  sagacity 
must  have  discovered,  but  which  your  indul- 
gence has  tolerated.  The  girl  is  gentle,  but 
shy  ; well  informed,  but  haughty  ; talented,  but 
thoughtless.  She  does  not  please,  and  takes  no 
pains  to  render  herself  agreeable.  She  con- 
ceives that  the  reputation  of  her  uncle  and  the 
bravery  of  her  father  are  everything.  Teach 
her,  and  that  by  the  most  effectual  means,  how 
absolutely  unavailing  are  those  qualities  which 
are  not  personal.  We  live  in  an  age  where 
8 


114 


JOSEPHINE. 


each  is  the  author  of  his  own  fortunes ; and  if 
those  who  serve  the  state  in  the  first  ranks 
ought  to  have  some  advantages  and  enjoy  some 
privileges,  they  should,  on  that  account,  strive 
only  to  render  themselves  more  beloved  and 
more  useful.  It  is  solely  by  acting  thus  that 
they  can  have  some  chance  of  excusing  their 
good  fortune  in  the  eyes  of  envy.  Of  these 
things,  my  dear  Madame  Campan,  you  must 
not  allow  my  niece  to  remain  ignorant ; and 
such  are  the  instructions  which,  in  my  name, 
you  should  repeat  to  her  constantly.  It  is  my 
pleasure  that  she  treat  as  equals  every  one  of  her 
companions,  most  of  whom  are  better  or  as  good 
as  herself,  their  only  inferiority  consisting  in 
not  having  relations  so  able  or  so  fortunate.” 
Notwithstanding  Napoleon’s  strong  disincli- 
nation to  have  Josephine  join  him  in  Egypt, 
and  though  in  every  letter  he  strongly  urged 
her  to  relinquish  the  plan,  she  was  so  importu- 
nate in  her  solicitations  that  he  sent  the  Po- 
mona frigate  to  convey  her  across  the  Mediter- 
ranean. She  was  prevented  from  embarking  by 
an  accident,  which  she  must  have  deemed  a very 
serious  calamity,  but  which  probably  saved  her 
from  years  of  captivity.  She  was  one  morning 
sitting  in  her  saloon,  busy  with  her  needle,  and 
conversing  with  several  ladies  who  were  her 
companions  and  intimate  friends,  when  a lady 
who  was  standing  in  the  balcony  called  the  at- 


JOSEPHINE  AT  MALMAISON.  115 


tention  of  the  party  to  a very  beautiful  dog 
which  was  passing  in  the  street.  All  the  ladies 
rushed  upon  the  balcony,  when,  with  a fearful 
crash,  it  broke  down,  and  precipitated  them 
upon  the  pavement.  Though  no  lives  were  lost, 
several  of  the  party  were  dreadfully  injured. 
Josephine  was  so  severely  bruised  as  to  be  ut- 
terly helpless,  and  for  some  time  she  was  fed 
like  an  infant.  It  was  several  months  before 
she  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  be  able  to  leave 
her  house.  This  grievousldisappointment,  how- 
ever, probably  saved  her  from  another,  which 
would  have  been  far  more  severely  felt.  The 
frigate  in  which  she  was  to  have  embarked,  had 
it  not  been  for  this  accident,  was  captured  by 
one  of  the  English  cruisers  and  taken  to  Lon- 
don. 

Napoleon  went  to  Egypt  because  he  thought 
it  the  shortest  route  to  the  vacant  throne  of  the 
Bourbons.  He  despised  the  rulers  who  were 
degrading  France,  and  placing  a stigma  upon 
popular  liberty  by  their  ignorance  and  their 
violence,  and  he  resolved  upon  their  overthrow. 
Consequently,  while  guiding  the  movements  of 
his  army  upon  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  his  atten- 
tion was  continually  directed  to  Paris.  He 
wrote  to  J osephine  that  he  intended  ere  long  to 
return,  and  directed  her  to  purchase  a pleasant 
country  seat  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  Paris. 

About  ten  miles  from  the  metropolis  and  five 


116 


JOSEPHINE. 


miles  from  Versailles  there  was  a beautiful 
chateau,  most  charmingly  situated,  called  Mal- 
maison.  This  estate  Josephine  purchased, 
greatly  enlarging  the  grounds,  at  an  expense  of 
about  one  hundred  thousand  dollars.  This 
lovely  retreat  possessed  unfailing  rural  attrac- 
tion for  a mind  formed,  like  that  of  Josephine, 
for  the  rich  appreciation  of  all  that  is  lovely  in 
the  aspects  of  nature.  Napoleon  was  delighted 
with  the  purchase,  and  expended  subsequently 
incredible  sums  in  repairs  and  enlargements, 
and  in  embellishments  of  statues,  paintings, 
and  furniture.  This  was  ever  the  favorite  resi- 
dence of  Napoleon  and  Josephine. 

As  the  leaves  of  autumn  began  to  fall,  Joseph- 
ine, who  had  been  slowly  recovering  from  the 
effects  of  the  accident,  left  Plombieres  and  took 
up  her  residence  at  Malmaison.  Napoleon  was 
absent  in  Egypt  about  eighteen  months.  Dur- 
ing the  winter  and  the  ensuing  summer,  Jo- 
sephine remained  with  Hortense,  and  several 
other  ladies,  who  composed  her  most  agreeable 
household,  in  this  beautiful  retreat.  The  celeb- 
rity of  Napoleon  surrounded  them  with  friends, 
and  that  elegant  mansion  was  the  resort  of  the 
most  illustrious  in  rank  and  intellect.  Napo- 
leon, who  had  ever  a spice  of  jealousy  in  his 
nature,  had  everything  reported  to  him  which 
occurred  at  Malmaison.  He  was  informed  re- 
specting all  the  guests  who  visited  the  chateau, 


JOSEPHINE  AT  MALMAISON.  117 

and  of  the  conversation  which  passed  in  every 
interview. 

Hortense  was  a lively  girl  of  fifteen,  and  the 
time  hung  heavily  upon  her  hands.  She 
amused  herself  in  playing  all  manner  of  pranks 
upon  a very  singular  valet  de  chambre,  by  the 
name  of  Carrat,  whom  her  mother  had  brought 
from  Italy.  This  man  was  very  timid  and  ec- 
centric, but,  with  most  enthusiastic  devotion, 
attached  to  the  service  of  Josephine. 

One  evening  Carrat  received  orders  to  attend 
Madame  Bonaparte  and  several  ladies  who  were 
with  her  in  their  twilight  walk  through  the  mag- 
nificent park  belonging  to  the  estate.  Carrat, 
ever  delighted  with  an  opportunity  to -dis- 
play his  attachment  to  his  kind  mistress,  obeyed 
with  great  alacrity.  No  ladies  in  peril  could 
desire  a more  valiant  knight-errant  than  the 
vaunting  little  Italian  assumed  to  be.  They 
had  not  advanced  far  into  the  somber  shadows 
of  the  grove  when  they  saw,  solemnly  emerging 
from  the  obscurity,  a tall  specter  in  its  winding- 
sheet.  The  fearful  apparition  approached  the 
party,  when  the  valet,  terrified  beyond  all  power 
of  self-control,  and  uttering  the  most  fearful 
shrieks,  abandoned  the  ladies  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  the  ghost,  and  fled.  The  phantom, 
with  its  white  drapery  fluttering  in  the  wind, 
pursued  him.  Soon  the  steps  of  the  affrighted 
valet  began  to  falter,  and  he  dropped  upon  the 


118 


JOSEPHINE. 


ground,  insensible,  in  a fit.  Hortense,  who  had 
been  perfectly  convulsed  with  laughter  in  view 
of  the  triumphant  success  of  her  experiment, 
was  now  correspondingly  alarmed.  The  ghost 
was  a fellow-servant  of  Carrat,  who  had  been 
dressed  out  under  the  superintendence  of  the 
mischievous  Hortense. 

As  the  poor  man  recovered  without  any 
serious  injury  and  without  the  slightest  diminu- 
tion of  his  excessive  vanity,  the  fun-loving  Hor- 
tense could  not  repress  her  propensity  still  to 
make  him  the  batt  of  her  practical  jokes.  It 
was  a defect  in  her  character  that  she  could  find 
pleasure  in  this  mischievous  kind  of  torment. 
It  is  not  improbable  that  this  trait  of  character, 
which  appears  so  excusable  in  a mirthful  girl 
of  fifteen,  was  the  cause  of  that  incessant  train 
of  sorrows,  which  subsequently  embittered  her 
whole  life.  Carrat  was  perfectly  devoted  to 
Josephine  ; Hortense  was  his  torment. 

The  unlucky  valet  occupied  a sleeping-room 
separated  from  another  only  by  a thin  deal  par- 
tition. A hole  was  made  through  this,  and  a 
pail  of  water  so  suspended  in  equilibrium  over 
the  pillow  of  the  victim,  that  by  drawing  a cord 
the  whole  contents  would  be  emptied  upon  his 
head.  The  supports  of  the  bedstead  had  also 
been  removed,  so  that  the  whole  fabric  would 
fall  as  soon  as  any  weight  was  placed  upon  it. 
Carrat,  among  his  other  eccentricities,  was  ever 


JOSEPHINE  AT  MALMAISON.  119 

in  the  habit  of  going  to  bed  without  a light. 
Matters  being  thus  prepared,  Hortense,  who 
had  employed  an  attendant  to  aid  her  in  her 
plans,  stood  in  an  adjoining  room  to  enjoy  the 
catastrophe. 

The  poor  man  entered  his  room,  and  threw 
himself  upon  his  pallet.  Down  it  came  with  a 
crash,  and  his  shriek  of  fright  was  for  a mo- 
ment drowned  in  the  inundation  of  water. 
Hortense,  knowing  the  almost  delirious  fear 
which  the  puerile  valet  had  of  reptiles,  cried, 
“ Poor  man  ! poor  man  ! what  will  he  do. 
The'water  was  full  of  toads.”  Carrat,  in  utter 
darkness,  drenched  with  cold  water,  and  over- 
whelmed in  the  ruins  of  his  bed  and  bedding, 
shrieked,  “ Murder  ! help  ! fire  ! drowning  ! ” 
while  Hortense  and  her  accomplices  enjoyed  his 
ludicrous  terror.  She  afterward  made  him  a 
handsome  present  as  a compensation.  Hor- 
tense was  not  a malicious  girl,  but,  like  many 
others  who  are  mirthful  and  thoughtless,  she 
found  a strange  pleasure  in  teasing.  Joseph- 
ine's only  happiness  was  in  making  others 
happy.  “ It  is  a necessity  of  my  heart,”  she 
said,  “ to  love  those  around  me,  and  to  be  loved 
by  them  in  return.”  How  much  more  noble 
such  a spirit  ! 

Though  Josephine  was  not  fully  informed  re- 
specting the  ultimate  designs  of  Napoleon,  and 
though  Napoleon  at  this  time  probably  had  no 


120 


JOSEPHINE. 


very  definite  plans  respecting  his  future  actions, 
his  interests  manifestly  required  that  she  should 
exert  all  her  powers  to  strengthen  the  ties  of 
those  who  were  already  his  friends,  and  to  gain 
others  to  his  rising  name.  Josephine  acquired 
great  influence  over  many  members  of  the  Di- 
rectory, and  this  influence  she  was  continually 
exerting  for  the  relief  of  those  who  were  in  dis- 
tress. Many  of  the  proscribed  emigrants  were 
indebted  to  her  for  liberty  and  the  restoration 
of  their  forfeited  estates.  The  following  letter 
from  Josephine  to  an  emigrant,  whose  fortune, 
and  perhaps  life,  she  had  saved,  exhibits  her  in- 
tellectual elevation  as  well  as  the  amiability  of 
her  heart. 

“ Sin, — Your  petition,  which  reached  Mal- 
maison  on  the  12th,  was  presented  the  same 
evening,  and  by  myself,  to  Citizen  Barras.  I 
have  the  pleasure  to  announce  to  you  that  the 
decision  is  favorable,  and  that  now,  erased  from 
the  fatal  list,  you  are  restored  to  all  the  rights 
of  a French  citizen.  But  in  transmitting  a 
communication  not  less  agreeable  to  me  than  to 
yourself,  permit  me  to  enhance  its  value  by  re- 
peating to  you  the  exact  words  with  which  it 
was  accompanied  by  the  Director.  ‘ I have 
usually  little  to  deny  you,  madame/  said  he, 
presenting  me  with  a sealed  inclosure  contain- 
ing the  act  of  restoration,  ( and  certainly,  when 
humanity  is  concerned,  I can  have  far  less  ob- 


JOSEPHINE  AT  MALMAISON.  121 


jection.  But  pity  for  misfortune  does  not  ex- 
clude justice,  and  justice  is  inseparable  from 
the  love  of  truth.  As  unfortunate,  M.  de  San- 
sal  merits  commiseration.  As  an  emigrant,  he 
has  right  to  none.  I will  say  more  ; had  I been 
disposed  to  be  severe,  there  existed  a cause  for 
stern  reprisals  on  the  part  of  a government  to 
whose  kindness  he  replies  by  insults.  Although 
I despise  those  of  such  a man,  I appreciate  them. 
They  prove  an  ungrateful  heart  and  a narrow 
mind.  Let  him  be  careful  about  expressing 
his  hatred.  All  my  colleagues  are  not  equally 
indulgent/ 

“ Blame  only  yourself,  sir,  for  the  small 
share  of  amenity  in  these  counsels.  They  are 
harsh,  perhaps,  but  useful ; and  you  will  do 
well  to  render  them  effective.  Begard,  also, 
the  faithfulness  with  which  I transcribe  them 
as  a proof  of  the  deep  interest  I take  in  your 
welfare,  and  of  my  anxiety  that  the  interference 
of  your  friends  may  be  justified  by  your  future 
conduct.” 

For  some  time  a very  constant  correspondence 
was  kept  up  between  Napoleon  and  Josephine, 
but  after  the  destruction  of  the  French  fleet  by 
Lord  Nelson  in  the  Bay  of  Aboukir,  and  when 
the  Mediterranean  had  become  completely 
blocked  up  by  English  cruisers,  almost  every 
letter  was  intercepted. 

For  political  purposes,  there  were  many  who 


122 


JOSEPHINE. 


wished  to  destroy  the  influence  which  Josephine 
had  acquired  over  the  mind  of  her  illustrious 
husband.  In  the  accomplishment  of  this  plan, 
they  endeavored,  in  every  way  in  their  power, 
to  excite  the  jealousy  of  Napoleon.  The  very 
efforts  which  Josephine  was  making  to  attract 
the  most  influential  men  in  Paris  to  her  saloon 
were  represented  to  him  as  indications  of  levity 
of  character,  and  of  a spirit  of  unpardonable 
coquetry.  The  enemies  of  Josephine  had  their 
influential  agents  in  the  camp  of  Napoleon,  and 
with  malice,  never  weary,  they  whispered  this 
suspicion  into  his  ear.  The  jealousy  of  his  impas- 
sioned nature  was  strongly  aroused.  In  his  in- 
dignation, he  wrote  to  Josephine  in  terms  of 
great  severity,  accusing  her  of  “ playing  the 
coquette  with  all  the  world. ” She  was  very 
deeply  wounded  by  these  unjust  suspicions, 
and  wrote  to  him  a letter  in  reply,  which, 
for  tenderness  and  delicacy  of  sentiment, 
and  the  expression  of  conscious  innocence, 
is  hardly  surpassed  by  anything  which  has 
ever  been  written.  Her  letter  was  intercepted, 
and  Napoleon  never  saw  it.  For  many  months 
nearly  all  communication  with  the  army  of 
Egypt  was  cut  off  by  the  vigilance  of  the 
English.  There  were  flying  reports  ever  reach- 
ing the  ear  of  Josephine  of  disaster  to  the 
army,  and  even  of  the  death  of  Napoleon. 
Josephine  was  at  times  in  great  distress. 


JOSEPHINE  AT  MALMAISON.  128 


She  knew  not  the  fate  of  her  husband  or 
her  son.  She  knew  that,  by  the  grossest  de- 
ception, her  husband's  confidence  in  her  had 
been  greatly  impaired,  and  she  feared  that, 
should  he  return,  she  might  never  be  able  to 
regain  his  affections.  Still,  she  devoted  herself 
with  unwearied  diligence  in  watching  over  all 
his  interests,  and  though  her  heart  was  often 
oppressed  with  anguish,  she  did  everything 
in  her  power  to  retain  the  aspect  of  cheerful- 
ness and  of  sanguine  hope.  One  of  her  favorite 
amusements — the  favorite  amusement  of  almost 
every  refined  mind — was  found  in  the  cultiva- 
tion of  flowers.  She  passed  a portion  of  every 
pleasant  day  with  Hortense  among  the  flower- 
beds, with  the  hoe,  and  the  watering-pot,  and 
the  pruning-knife.  Hortense,  though  she  loved 
the  society  of  her  mother,  was  not  fond  of  these 
employments,  and  in  subsequent  life  she  never 
turned  to  them  for  a solace.  With  Josephine, 
however, this  taste  remained  unchanged  through 
life.  She  was  also  very  fond  of  leaving  the 
aristocratic  walks  of  Malmaison,  and  sauntering 
through  the  lanes  and  the  rural  roads,  where 
she  could  enter  the  cottages  of  the  peasants, 
and  listen  to  their  simple  tales  of  joy  and  grief. 
To  many  of  these  dwellings  her  visit  was  as  the 
mission  of  an  angel.  Her  purse  was  never 
closed  against  the  wants  of  penury.  But  that 
which  rendered  her  still  more  a ministering 


124 


JOSEPHINE. 


spirit  to  the  poor  was  that  her  heart  was  ever 
open,  with  its  full  flood  of  sympathy,  to  share 
the  grief  of  their  bereavements,  and  to  rejoice 
in  their  joy.  When  she  sat  upon  the  throne- of 
France,  and  even  long  after  she  sank  into  the 
repose  of  the  grave,  the  region  around  Malmai- 
son  was  full  of  recitals  of  her  benevolence. 
Aristocratic  pride  at  times  affected  to  look  down 
with  contempt  upon  the  elevated  enjoyments 
of  a noble  heart. 

Thus  occupied  in  pleading  with  those  in 
power  for  those  of  illustrious  birth  who  had,  by 
emigration,  forfeited  both  property  and  life  ; 
in  visiting  the  sick  and  the  sorrowing  in  the 
humble  cottages  around  her  ; in  presiding  with 
queenly  dignity  over  the  brilliant  soirees  in  her 
own  saloons,  where  talent  and  rank  were  ever 
assembled,  and  in  diffusing  the  sunlight  of  her 
own  cheerful  heart  throughout  the  whole  house- 
hold at  Malmaison,  Josephine,  through  weary 
months,  awaited  tidings  from  her  absent 
husband. 


WIFE  OF  FIRST  CONSUL. 


125 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

JOSEPHINE  THE  WIFE  OF  THE  FIRST  CONSUL. 

The  winter  of  1799  opened  upon  France  in 
the  deepest  gloom.  The  French  were  weary  of 
the  horrors  of  the  Revolution.  All  business  was 
at  a stand.  The  poor  had  neither  employment 
nor  bread.  Starvation  reigned  in  the  capital. 
The  Austrians  had  again  entered  Italy,  and 
beaten  the  French  at  almost  every  point.  No 
tidings  were  received  from  Bonaparte  and  the 
army  in  Egypt.  Rumors  of  the  death  of  Napo- 
leon and  of  a disastrous  state  of  the  enterprise 
filled  the  city.  The  government  at  Paris,  com- 
posed of  men  who  had  emerged  from  obscurity 
in  the  storms  of  revolution,  was  imbecile  and 
tyrannical  in  the  extreme.  The  nation  was 
weary  beyond  endurance  of  the  strife  of  con- 
tending factions,  and  ardently  desired  some 
strong  arm  to  be  extended  for  the  restoration 
of  order,  and  for  the  establishment  of  an  effi- 
cient and  reputable  government.  “ The  pear 
-was  ripe/* 

On  the  evening  of  the  9th  of  November,  a 


126 


JOSEPHINE. 


large  and  very  brilliant  party  was  assembled  in 
Paris  at  the  house  of  M.  Gohier,  president  of 
the  Directory.  The  company  included  all  the 
most  distinguished  persons  then  resident  in  the 
metropolis.  Josephine,  being  in  Paris  at  that 
time,  was  one  of  the  guests.  About  midnight, 
the  gentlemen  and  ladies  were  gathering  around 
a supper  table  very  sumptuously  spread,  when 
they  were  startled  by  a telegraphic  announce- 
ment, communicated  to  their  host,  that  Bona- 
parte had  landed  that  morning  at  Frejus,  a 
small  town  upon  the  Mediterranean  shore.  The 
announcement  created  the  most  profound  sen- 
sation. All  knew  that  Napoleon  had  not  re- 
turned at  that  critical  moment  without  an 
object.  Many  were  pale  with  apprehension, 
conscious  that  his  popularity  with  the  army 
would  enable  him  to  wrest  from  them  their  ill- 
gotten  power.  Others  were  elated  with  hope. 
Yet  universal  embarrassment  prevailed.  None 
dared  to  express  their  thoughts.  No  efforts 
could  revive  the  conviviality  of  the  evening, 
and  the  party  soon  dispersed. 

^ Josephine,  with  the  deepest  emotion,  hast- 
ened home,  immediately  summoned  her  car- 
riage, and,  taking  with  her  Hortense  and 
Louis  Bonaparte,  set  out,  without  allowing  an 
hour  for  repose,  to  meet  her  husband.  She 
was  very  anxious  to  have  an  interview  with  him 
before  her  enemies  should  have  an  opportunity 


WIFE  OF  FIRST  CONSUL. 


127 


to  fill  his  mind  with  new  accusations  against 
her.  The  most  direct  route  from  Paris  to  Frejus 
passes  through  the  city  of  Lyons.  There 
is  another  and  more  retired  route,  not  fre- 
quently traveled,  but  which  Napoleon,  for  some 
unknown  reason,  took.  It  was  a long  journey 
of  weary,  weary  leagues,  over  hills  and  plains. 
Josephine  alighted  not  for  refreshment  or 
slumber,  but  with  fresh  relays  of  horses,  night 
and  day,  pressed  on  to  meet  her  spouse.  When 
she  arrived  at  Lyons,  to  her  utter  consternation, 
she  heard  that  Napoleon  had  taken  the  other 
route,  and  some  forty-eight  hours  before,  had 
passed  her  on  the  way  to  Paris.  No  words 
can  describe  the  anguish  which  these  tidings 
caused  her.  Her  husband  would  arrive  in 
Paris  and  find  her  absent.  He  would  imme- 
diately be  surrounded  by  those  who  would  try 
to  feed  his  jealousy.  Two  or  three  days  must 
elapse  ere  she  could  possibly  retrace  her  steps. 
Napoleon  arrived  in  Paris  the  10th  of  November. 
It  was  not  until  nearly  midnight  of  the  13tli 
that  Josephine  returned.  Worn  out  with  the 
fatigues  of  traveling,  of  anxiety,  and  of  watch- 
ing, she  drove  with  a heavy  heart  to  their  house 
in  the  Rue  Chantereine. 

The  enemies  whom  Josephine  had  most  to 
fear  were  the  brothers  and  the  sisters-in-law  of 
Napoleon.  They  were  entirely  dependent  upon 
their  illustrious  brother  for  their  own  advance- 


128 


JOSEPHINE. 


ment  in  life,  and  were  exceedingly  jealous  of 
the  influence  which  Josephine  had  exerted  over 
his  mind.  They  feared  that  she  would  gain 
an  exclusive  empire  where  they  wished  also  to 
reign.  Taking  advantage  of  Josephine’s  absence, 
they  had  succeeded  in  rousing  Napoleon’s 
indignation  to  the  highest  pitch.  They  ac- 
cused her  of  levity,  of  extravagance,  of  forget- 
fulness of  him,  and  of  ever  playing  the  coquette 
with  all  the  debauchees  of  Paris.  Napoleon, 
stimulated  by  that  pride  which  led  the  Roman 
emperor  to  say,  “ Caesar’s  wife  must  not  be 
suspected,”  threatened  loudly  “ divorce — open 
and  public  divorce.”  Said  one  maliciously  to 
him,  “ she  will  appear  before  you  with  all  her 
fascinations,  explain  matters  ; you  will  forgive 
all,  and  tranquillity  will  be  restored.”  “ Never  ! 
never  ! ” exclaimed  the  irritated  general,  strid- 
ing to  and  fro  through  the  room.  “ I forgive  ! 
never  ! You  know  me.  Were  I not  sure  of  my 
resolution,  I would  pluck  out  this  heart  and 
cast  it  into  the  fire.” 

Such  was  the  mood  of  mind  in  which  Napo- 
leon wras  prepared  to  receive  Josephine,  after 
an  absence  of  eighteen  months.  Josephine  and 
Hortense  alighted  in  the  courtyard,  and  were 
immediately  enfolded  in  the  embraces  of 
Eugene,  who  was  anxiously  awaiting  their 
arrival.  With  trembling  steps  and  a throbbing 
heart,  Josephine,  accompanied  by  her  son  and 


WIFE  OF  FIRST  CONSUL. 


129 


daughter,  ascended  the  stairs  to  a small  circular 
family  room  where  they  expected  to  find  Napo- 
leon. He  was  there  with  his  brother  Joseph. 
As  his  wife  and  her  children  entered  the  room, 
Napoleon  glanced  sternly  at  them,  and  instantly 
said  to  Josephine,  in  a severe  and  commanding 
tone,  almost  before  she  had  crossed  the  thres- 
hold, 

“ Madame  ! it  is  my  wish  that  you  retire  im- 
mediately to  Malmaison.” 

Josephine  came  near  falling  lifeless  upon  the 
floor.  She  was  caught  in  the  arms  of  Eugene, 
who,  in  the  most  profound  grief,  had  kept 
near  the  side  of  his  revered  and  beloved  mother. 
He  supported  her  fainting  steps,  as,  sobbing 
with  anguish,  she  silently  retired  to  her  apart- 
ment. Napoleon,  greatly  agitated,  traversed 
the  room  with  hasty  strides.  The  sight  of 
Josephine  had  rekindled  all  his  love,  and  he 
was  struggling  with  desperate  efforts  to  cherish 
his  sense  of  wrong,  and  to  fortify  himself 
against  any  return  of  clemency. 

In  a few  moments,  Josephine  and  Hortense, 
with  Eugene,  were  heard  descending  the  stairs 
to  leave  the  house.  It  was  midnight.  For  a 
week  Josephine  had  lived  in  her  carriage  al- 
most without  food  or  sleep.  Nothing  but  in- 
tensity of  excitement  had  prevented  her  from 
sinking  down  in  utter  weariness  and  exhaus- 
tion. It  was  a drive  of  thirty  miles  to  Malmai- 
9 


130 


JOSEPHINE. 


son.  Napoleon  was  not  prepared  for  such 
prompt  obedience.  Even  his  stern  heart  could 
not  resist  its  instinctive  pleadings  for  his  wife 
and  her  daughter.  He  hastened  from  his  room, 
and  though  his  pride  would  not  allow  him  direct- 
ly to  urge  Josephine  to  remain,  he  insisted  upon 
Eugene's  returning, and  urged  it  in  such  a way 
that  he  came  back,  leading  with  him  his  moth- 
er and  his  sister.  Napoleon,  however,  ad- 
dressed not  a word  to  either  of  them.  Joseph- 
ine threw  herself  upon  a couch  in  her  apart- 
ment, and  Napoleon,  in  gloomy  silence,  en- 
tered his  cabinet.  Two  days  of  wretchedness 
passed  away,  during  which  no  intercourse  took 
place  between  the  estranged  parties.  But  the 
anger  of  the  husband  was  gradually  subsiding. 
Love  for  Josephine  was  slowly  gaining  strength 
in  his  heart.  On  the  third  day,  his  pride  and 
passion  were  sufficiently  subdued  to  allow  him 
to  enter  the  apartment  where  Josephine  and 
Hortense  had  kept  themselves  secluded, 
awaiting  his  pleasure.  Josephine  was  seated 
at  a toilet  table,  with  her  face  buried  in  her 
hands,  and  absorbed  in  the  profoundest  grief. 
On  the  table  were  exposed  the  letters  which 
she  had  received  from  Napoleon  during  his 
absence,  and  which  she  had  evidently  been 
reading.  Hortense  was  standing  silently  and 
pensively  in  an  alcove  by  the  window,  half  con- 
cealed by  the  curtain,  Napoleon  advanced  with 


WIFE  OF  FIRST  CONSUL.  131 

an  irresolute  step,  hesitated  for  a moment,  and 
then  said,  “ Josephine  !”  She  started  up  at 
the  sound  of  that  well-known  voice,  and,  her 
beautiful  countenance  all  suffused  with  tears, 
mournfully  exclaimed,  “ Mon  ami  ” in  that 
peculiar  tone,  so  pathetic,  so  musical,  which 
ever  thrilled  upon  the  heart  of  Napoleon.  “ My 
friend  ” was  the  term  of  endearment  with  which 
she  invariably  addressed  her  husband.  Napo- 
leon was  vanquished.  He  extended  his  hand 
to  his  deeply  wronged  wife.  She  threw  herself 
into  his  arms,  pillowed  her  aching  head  upon 
his  bosom,  and  in  the  fulness  of  blended  joy 
and  anguish  wept  convulsively.  An  explana- 
tion of  several  hours  ensued.  Every  shade  of 
suspicion  was  obliterated  from  his  mind.  He 
received  Josephine  again  to  his  entire  confi- 
dence, and  this  confidence  was  never  again  inter- 
rupted. 

When  Napoleon  landed  at  Frejus,  he  was  re- 
ceived with  the  most  enthusiastic  demonstra- 
tion of  delight.  There  was  a universal  impres- 
sion that  the  hero  of  Italy,  the  conqueror  of 
Egypt,  had  returned  thus  unexpectedly  to 
France  for  the  accomplishment  of  some  mag- 
nificent enterprise  ; yet  no  one  knew  what  to 
anticipate.  The  moment  the  frigate  dropped 
anchor  in  the  bay,  and  it  was  announced  that 
Napoleon  was  on  board,  thousands  surrounded 
the  vessel  in  boats,  and  the  air  was  filled  with 


132 


JOSEPHINE. 


enthusiastic  acclamations.  His  journey  to 
Paris  was  one  continued  scene  of  triumph. 
Crowds  gathered  around  him  at  every  stopping- 
place,  intoxicated  with  joy.  The  bells  rang 
their  merriest  peals  ; the  booming  of  cannon 
echoed  along  the  hillsides,  and  brilliant  bon- 
fires by  night  blazed  upon  every  eminence. 
Upon  his  arrival  in  Paris,  the  soldiers,  recog- 
nizing their  leader  in  so  many  brilliant  victories, 
greeted  him  with  indescribable  enthusiasm,  and 
cries  of  “ Vive  Bonaparte  ! ” resounded  through 
the  metropolis.  His  saloon,  ever  thronged  with 
generals  and  statesmen,  and  all  who  were  most 
illustrious  in  intellect  and  rank,  resembled  the 
court  of  a monarch.  Even  the  most  prominent 
men  in  the  Directory,  disgusted  with  the  prog- 
ress of  measures  which  they  could  not  control, 
urged  him  to  grasp  the  reins  of  power,  assuring 
him  that  there  was  no  hope  for  France  but  in 
his  strong  arm.  In  less  than  four  weeks  from 
his  arrival  in  Paris,  the  execrated  government 
was  overturned.  Napoleon,  Sieyes,  and  Ducos 
were  appointed  consuls,  and  twenty-five  mem- 
bers were  appointed  from  each  of  the  councils 
to  unite  with  the  consuls  in  forming  a new 
Constitution.  One  unanimous  voice  of  ap- 
proval rose  from  all  parts  of  France  in  view  of 
this  change.  No  political  movement  could  take 
place  more  strongly  confirmed  by  the  popular 
will.  Napoleon  hastened  from  the  scenes  of 


WIFE  OF  FIKST  CONSUL, 


133 


peril  and  agitation  through  which  he  had  passed 
in  the  accomplishment  of  this  change,  that 
he  might  he  the  first  to  announce  to  Josephine 
the  political  victory  he  had  achieved. 

During  the  perilous  day,  when,  in  the  midst 
of  outcries,  daggers,  and  drawn  swords,  he  had 
been  contending  with  the  Council  of  the  Five 
Hundred,  he  could  find  not  even  one  moment 
to  despatch  a note  from  St.  Cloud  to  his  wife. 
The  previous  day  he  had  kept  her  constantly 
informed  of  the  progress  of  events.  Josephine 
remained  throughout  the  whole  of  the  19th  of 
November,  from  morning  until  evening,  with- 
out sight  or  tidings  of  her  husband.  She  knew 
that,  in  the  fierce  strife  of  parties  in  France, 
there  was  no  safety  for  life  ; and  when  the 
darkness  of  night  settled  down  around  her,  and 
still  no  word  from  her  Napoleon,  her  anxiety 
amounted  almost  to  distraction.  The  rum- 
bling of  every  carriage  upon  the  pavement — 
every  noise  in  the  street  aroused  her  hopes  or  her 
fears.  Worn  out  with  anxiety,  at  midnight  she 
threw  herself  upon  her  bed,  but  not  to  sleep. 
Several  weary,  hours  of  suspense  lingered  slowly 
along,  when,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  she 
heard  the  well-known  footsteps  of  her  husband 
upon  the  stairs. 

She  sprang  to  meet  him.  He  fondly  clasped 
her  in  his  arms,  and  assured  her  that  he  had 
not  spoken  to  a single  individual  since  he  had 


134 


JOSEPHINE. 


taken  the  oaths  of  office,  that  the  voice  of  his 
Josephine  might  be  the  first  to  congratulate 
him  upon  Ins  virtual  accession  to  the  empire  of 
France.  An  animated  conversation  ensued, 
and  then  Napoleon,  throwing  himself  upon  his 
couch  for  a few  moments*  repose,  gaily  said, 
u Good-night,  my  Josephine  ! to-morrow  we 
sleep  in  the  Luxembourg.** 

The  next  day  the  three  consuls  met  in  Paris. 
His  colleagues,  however,  immediately  perceived 
that  the  towering  ambition  of  Napoleon  would 
brook  no  rival.  He  showed  them  the  absurdity 
of  their  plans,  and  compelled  them  to  assent  to 
the  superior  wisdom  of  his  own.  The  untiring 
vigor  of  his  mind,  the  boldness  and  energy  of 
his  thoughts,  and  his  intuitive  and  almost  mi- 
raculous familiarity  with  every  branch  of  polit- 
ical science,  overawed  his  assoc;  Aes,  and  the 
whole  power  passed,  with  hardly  the  slightest 
resistance,  into  his  own  hands.  Immediately 
after  their  first  interview,  the  Abbe  Sieyes,  who 
combined  great  weakness  with  extensive  knowl- 
edge, remarked  to  Talleyrand  and  others, 
“ Gentlemen,  I perceive  that  we  have  got  a 
master.  Bonaparte  can  do  and  will  do  every- 
thing himself.  But,**  he  continued,  after  a 
pause,  “ it  is  better  to  submit  than  to  protract 
dissensions  forever.** 

In  this  most  astonishing  revolution,  thus  sud- 
denly accomplished,  and  without  the  shedding 


WIFE  OF  Fill  ST  CONSUL. 


135 


of  a drop  of  blood,  Napoleon  was  much  indebted 
to  the  influence  which  his  wife  had  exerted  in 
his  behalf  during  his  absence  in  Egypt.  The 
dinners  she  had  given,  the  guests  she  had  enter- 
tained in  her  saloons  evening  after  evening, 
consisting  of  the  most  distinguished  scholars, 
and  statesmen,  and  generals  in  the  metropolis, 
had  contributed  greatly  to  the  popularity  of  her 
husband,  and  had  surrounded  him  with  devoted 
friends.  Napoleon  ever  acknowledged  his  obli- 
gations to  Josephine  for  the  essential  service 
she  had  thus  rendered  him. 

The  next  morning  Napoleon  and  Josephine 
removed  from  their  elegant  yet  comparatively 
plebeian  residence  in  the  Rue  Chantereine  to 
the  palace  of  the  Luxembourg.  This,  however, 
was  but  the  stepping-stone  to  the  Tuilleries, 
the  world-renowned  abode  of  the  monarchs  of 
France.  They  remained  for  two  months  at  the 
Luxembourg.  The  energies  of  Napoleon  were 
employed  every  moment  in  promoting  changes 
in  the  internal  affairs  of  France,  which  even 
his  bitterest  enemies  admit  were  marked  with 
the  most  eminent  wisdom  and  benevolence. 
During  the  two  months  of  their  residence  at 
the  Luxembourg,  no  domestic  event  of  import- 
ance occurred,  except  the  marriage  of  Murat 
with  Caroline,  the  sister  of  Napoleon.  Caroline 
was  exceedingly  beautiful.  Murat  was  one  of 
the  favorite  aids  of  Bonaparte.  Their  nuptials 


136 


JOSEPHINE. 


were  celebrated  with  great  splendor,  and  the 
gay  Parisians  began  again  to  be  amused  with 
something  like  the  glitter  of  royalty. 

Each  day  Napoleon  became  more  popular 
and  his  power  more  firmly  established.  Soon 
all  France  was  prepared  to  see  the  first  consul 
take  up  his  residence  in  the  ancient  apartments 
of  the  kings  of  France.  The  Tuilleries  had 
been  sacked  again  and  again  by  the  mob.  The 
gorgeous  furniture,  the  rich  paintings,  and  all 
the  voluptuous  elegance  which  the  wealth  of 
Louis  XIV.  could  create,  had  been  thrown 
into  the  courtyard  and  consumed  by  the  infuri- 
ated populace.  Royalty  itself  had  been  pur- 
sued and  insulted  in  its  most  sacred  retreats. 

By  slow  and  cautious  advances,  Napoleon  re- 
furnished these  magnificent  saloons.  The  em- 
blems of  Jacobin  misrule  were  silently  effaced. 
Statues  of  Brutus  and  Washington,  of  Demos- 
thenes, and  of  others  renowned  for  illustrious 
deeds,  were  placed  in  the  vacant  niches,  and 
the  Tuilleries  again  appeared  resplendent  as 
in  the  days  of  pristine  pride  and  powrer. 

On  the  morning  of  the  19th  of  February, 
1800,  all  Paris  was  in  commotion  to  witness 
the  transfer  of  the  embryo  court  of  the  first 
consul  and  his  colleagues  from  the  Luxembourg 
to  the  Tuilleries.  Already  the  colleagues  of 
Napoleon  had  become  so  entirely  eclipsed  by 
the  superior  brilliance  of  their  imperious  asso- 


WIFE  OF  FIRST  CONSUL. 


187 


ciate  that  their  names  were  almost  forgotten. 
The  royal  apartments  were  prepared  for  Napo- 
leon, while  those  in  the  Pavilion  of  Flora  were 
assigned  to  the  two  other  consuls.  The  three 
consuls  entered  a magnificent  carriage,  drawn 
by  six  white  horses.  A gorgeous  train  of  offi- 
cers, with  six  thousand  picked  troops  in  the 
richest  uniform,  surrounded  the  cortege. 
Many  of  the  long-abolished  usages  of  royalty 
were  renewed  upon  that  day.  Twenty  thou- 
sand soldiers,  in  most  imposing  military  array, 
were  drawn  up  before  the  palace.  The  mo- 
ment the  carriage  appeared,  the  very  heavens 
seemed  rent  with  their  cries,  “Vive  le premier 
consul  ! ” The  two  associate  consuls  were 
ciphers..  They  sat  at  his  side  as  pages  to  em- 
bellish his  triumph.  This  day  placed  Napo- 
leon in  reality  upon  the  throne  of  France,  and 
Josephine  that  evening  moved,  a queen,  in  the 
apartments  hallowed  by  the  beauty  and  the 
sufferings  of  Maria  Antoinette. 

The  suite  of  rooms  appropriated  to  the  wife 
of  the  first  consul  consisted  of  two  magnificent 
saloons,  with  private  apartments  adjoining. 
No  French  monarch  ever  sauntered  through  a 
more  dazzling  scene  than  that  which  graced 
the  drawing-rooms  of  Josephine  on  this  occa- 
sion. Ambassadors  from  nearly  all  the  courts 
of  Europe  were  present.  The  army  con- 
tributed its  utmost  display  of  rank  and  military 


138 


JOSEPHINE. 


pomp  to  embellish  the  triumph  of  its  most 
successful  general.  And  the  metropolis  con- 
tributed all  that  it  still  retained  of  brilliance  in 
ancestral  renown  or  in  intellectual  achievement. 

When  Josephine  entered  the  gorgeously-illu- 
minated apartments  of  the  palace,  leaning  upon 
the  arm  of  Talleyrand,  and  dressed  in  the  ele- 
gance of  the  most  perfect  simplicity,  a murmur 
of  admiration  arose  from  the  whole  assembly. 
She  was  attired  in  a robe  of  white  muslin. 
Her  hair  fell  in  graceful  ringlets  upon  her  neck 
and  shoulders.  A necklace  of  pearls  of  great 
value  completed  her  costume.  The  queenly 
elegance  of  her  figure,  the  inimitable  grace  of  her 
movements,  the  peculiar  conversational  tact  she 
possessed,  and  the  melody  of  a voice  which,  once 
heard,  never  was  forgotten,  gave  to  Josephine, 
on  this  eventful  evening,  a social  triumph 
corresponding  with  that  which  Napoleon  had 
received  during  the  day.  She  entered  the 
rooms  to  welcome  her  guests  before  her  hus- 
band. As  she  made  the  tour  of  the  apartments, 
supported  by  the  minister,  whose  commanding 
figure  towered  above  all  the  rest,  she  was  first 
introduced  to  the  foreign  ambassadors,  and 
then  to  others  of  distinguished  name  and  note. 
“Napoleon  wins  battles,  but  Josephine  wins 
hearts.  ” This  was  the  all-appropriate  theater 
for  the  triumph  of  Josephine.  Here  she  was 
entirely  at  home.  Instinct  taught  her  every- 


WIFE  OF  FIRST  CONSUL. 


139 


tiling  that  was  graceful  and  pleasing.  Eti- 
quette, that  stern  tyrant  so  necessary  for  the 
control  of  common  minds,  was  compelled  to 
bow  in  subjection  to  Josephine,  for  her  actions 
became  a higher  law.  In  the  exuberance  #of 
benevolent  joy,  she  floated  through  this  bril- 
liant scene,  wherever  she  appeared  exciting  ad- 
miration, though  she  sought  only  to  diffuse 
enjoyment. 

Josephine  was  now  about  thirty-three  years 
of  age,  and  while  in  personal  charms  she  re- 
tained all  the  fascination  of  more  youthful 
years,  her  mind,  elevated  and  ennobled  by  re- 
verses and  sufferings  most  magnanimously 
borne,  and  cultivated  by  the  daily  exercise  of 
its  rich  endowments,  enabled  het*  to  pass  from 
the  circles  of  fashion  to  the  circles  of  science, 
from  those  who  thought  only  of  the  accomplish- 
ments of  the  person  to  those  who  dwelt  in  the 
loftiest  regions  of  the  intellect,  and  to  be 
equally  admired  by  both. 

Her  figure  appears  to  have  been  molded  into 
the  absolute  perfection  of  the  female  frame,  nei- 
ther too  large  for  the  utmost  delicacy  of  femi- 
nine beauty,  nor  too  small  for  queenly  dignity. 
The  exquisite  symmetry  of  her  form  and  the 
elasticity  of  her  step  gave  an  ethereal  aspect  to 
her  movements.  Her  features,  of  Grecian  out- 
line, were  finely  modeled,  and  through  them  all 
the  varying  emotions  of  the  soul  were  unceas- 


140 


JOSEPHINE. 


ingly  beaming.  N o one  probably  ever  possessed 
in  a higher  degree  this  resistless  charm  of  femi- 
nine loveliness.  Her  eyes  were  of  a deep  blue, 
and  possessed  a winning  tenderness  of  expres- 
sion when  reposing  upon  those  she  loved  which 
could  not  be  resisted.  Napoleon,  even  when 
most  agitated  by  the  conflicts  of  his  stormy 
life,  was  speedily  subdued  by  the  tranquilizing 
power  of  her  looks  of  love.  But  the  tone  and 
modulations  of  her  voice  in  conversation  con- 
stituted the  most  remarkable  attraction  of  this 
most  attractive  woman.  No  one  could  listen 
to  her  sparkling,  flowing,  musical  words  with- 
out feeling  the  fascination  of  their  strange 
melody.  “ The  first  applauses  of  the  French 
people,”  says  Napoleon,  “fell  upon  my  ear 
sweet  as  the  voice  of  Josephine.” 

The  rural  charms  of  Malmaison,  however, 
exerted  a more  powerful  sway  over  both  the 
first  consul  and  his  companion  than  the  more 
splendid  attractions  of  the  Tuilleries.  The 
Revolutionary  government  had  abolished  the 
Sabbath,  and  appointed  every  tenth  day  for 
rest  and  recreation.  Napoleon  and  Josephine 
habitually  spent  this  day  at  Malmaison.  There, 
in  the  retirement  of  green  fields  and  luxuriant 
groves,  surrounded  by  those  scenes  of  nature 
which  had  peculiar  charms  for  them  both,  they 
found  that  quiet  happiness  which  is  in  vain 
sought  amid  the  turmoil  of  the  camp  or  the 


WIFE  OF  FIKST  CONSUL. 


141 


splendor  of  the  court.  Josephine,  in  particu- 
lar, here  found  her  most  serene  and  joyous 
hours.  She  regretted  the  high  ambition  of  her 
husband,  while,  at  the  same  time,  she  felt  a 
wife's  pride  and  gratification  in  view  of  the 
honors  which  were  so  profusely  heaped  upon 
him.  It  delighted  her  to  see  him  here  lay 
aside  the  cares  of  state,  and  enjoy  with  her  the 
unostentatious  pleasures  of  the  flower-garden 
and  the  farmyard.  And  when  the  hour  came 
for  them  to  return  from  their  rural  villa  to  their 
city  palace,  Napoleon  often  said,  with  a sigh, 
“Now  it  is  necessary  for  us  to  go  and  put  on 
again  the  yoke  of  misery." 

The  dangers  of  greatness  soon  began  to  hover 
around  the  path  of  the  first  consul.  Joseph- 
ine was  continually  alarmed  with  rumors  of 
conspiracies  and  plots  of  assassination.  The 
utter  indifference  of  Napoleon  to  all  such  perils, 
and  his  entire  disregard  of  all  precautionary 
measures,  only  increased  the  anxiety  of  his  wife. 
The  road  leading  from  Paris  to  Malmaison 
wound  through  a wild  district.,  then  but  thinly 
inhabited,  and  which  presented  many  facilities 
for  deeds  of  violence.  Whenever  Napoleon  was 
about  to  traverse  this  road,  Josephine  sent  the 
servants  of  their  private  establishment  to  scru- 
tinize all  its  lurking-places  where  any  foes 
might  be  concealed.  Napoleon,  though  grati- 
fied by  this  kind  care,  often  amused  and  good- 


142 


JOSEPHINE. 


naturedly  teased  Josephine  with  most  ludicrous 
accounts  of  the  perils  and  hair-breadth  escapes 
which  he  had  encountered.  She  also  had  large 
and  powerful  dogs  trained  to  guard  the  grounds 
of  Malmaison  from  any  intrusion  by  night. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  when  Napoleon 
made  his  entry  into  the  Tuilleries,  he  remarked 
to  Bourrienne,  “It  is  not  enough  to  be  in  the 
Tuilleries,  we  must  take  measures  to  remain 
there.  Who  has  not  inhabited  this  palace  ? It 
has  been  the  abode  of  robbers — of  the  Conven- 
tion. There  is  your  brother’s  house,  from 
which,  eight  years  ago,  we  saw  the  good  Louis 
XVI.  besieged  in  the  Tuilleries  and  carried  off 
into  captivity.  But  you  need  not  fear  a repe 
tition  of  the  scene.  Let  them  attempt  it  with 
me  if  they  dare  ” To  all  the  cautions  of  his 
anxious  wife  respecting  assassination,  he  ever 
quietly  replied,  “ My  dear  Josephine,  they  dare 
not  do  it.” 


DEVELOPMENTS  OF  CHARACTER.  143 


CHAPTER  IX. 
developments  of  character. 

fHrRlNG  Napoleon's  absence  in  Egypt  the 
Austrians  had  again  invaded  Italy.  The 
French  troops  had  been  beaten  in  many  battles, 
and  driven  from  vast  extents  of  territory, 
over  which  Napoleon  had  caused  the  flag  of  the 
Republic  to  float  in  triumph.  The  first  consul 
having,  with  almost  superhuman  energy,  ar- 
ranged the  internal  affairs  of  his  government, 
now  turned  his  thoughts  toward  the  defeated 
armies  of  France,  which  had  been  driven  back 
into  the  fastnesses  of  the  Alps.  “ I must  go/' 
said  he,  “my  dear  Josephine.  But  I will  not 
forget  you,  and  I will  not  be  absent  long."  He 
bade  adieu  to  his  wife  at  the  Tuilleries  on  the 
7th  of  May,  1800.  At  midnight  of  the  2d  of 
July  he  returned,  having  been  absent  less  than 
two  months.  In  that  brief  period  he  drove  the 
Austrians  from  all  their  strongholds,  regained 
Italy,  and  by  a campaign  more  brilliant  than 
any  other  which  history  has  ever  recorded, 
added  immeasurably  to  his  own  moral  power. 


144 


JOSEPHINE. 


These  astonishing  victories  excited  the  Parisians 
to  a delirium  of  joy.  Night  after  night  the 
streets  were  illuminated,  and  whenever  Napo- 
leon appeared,  crowds  thronged  him,  filling  the 
air  with  their  acclamations.  These  triumphs, 
however,  instead  of  satisfying  Napoleon,  did 
but  add  fuel  to  his  all-absorbing  ambition. 
“A  few  more  great  events,”  said  he,  “like 
those  of  this  campaign,  and  I may  really  de- 
scend to  posterity.  But  still  it  is  little  enough. 
I have  conquered,  it  is  true,  in  less  than  two 
years,  Cairo,  Paris,  Milan.  But,  were  I to  die 
to-morrow,  half  a page  of  general  history  would, 
after  ten  centuries,  be  all  that  would  be  de- 
voted to  my  exploits.” 

During  his  absence  Josephine  passed  her 
time  at  Malmaison.  And  it  surely  is  indica- 
tive not  only  of  the  depth  of  Napoleon’s  love 
for  Josephine,  but  also  of  his  appreciation  of 
those  delicate  attentions  which  could  touch  the 
heart  of  a loving  wife,  that  in  this  busiest  of 
campaigns,  in  which,  by  day  and  by  night,  he 
was  upon  the  horse’s  back,  with  hardly  one 
moment  allowed  for  refreshment  or  repose, 
rarely-  did  a single  day  pass  in  which  he  did  not 
transmit  some  token  of  affection  to  Malmaison. 
Josephine  daily  watched,  with  the  most  intense 
interest,  the  arrival  of  the  courier  with  the  brief 
and  almost  illegible  note  from  her  husband, 
Sometimes,the  blurred  and  blotted  lines  were 


DEVELOPMENTS  OF  CHARACTER.  145 


hastily  written  upon  horseback,  with  the  pom- 
mel of  his  saddle  for  his  writing-desk.  Some- 
times they  were  written,  at  his  dictation,  by 
his  secretary,  upon  a drum-head,  on  the  field 
of  carnage,  when  the  mangled  bodies  of  the 
dying  and  the  dead  were  strewed  all  around 
him,  and  the  thunders  of  the  retreating  battle 
were  still  echoing  over  the  plains.  These  deli- 
cate attentions  to  his  wife  exhibit  a noble  trait 
in  the  character  of  Napoleon.  And  she  must 
have  been  indeed  a noble  woman  who  could 
have  inspired  such  a mind  with  esteem  and 
tenderness  so  profound. 

Josephine  employed  much  of  her  time  in  su- 
perintending those  improvements  which  she 
thought  would  please  her  husband  on  his  re- 
turn ; creating  for  him  pleasant  little  surprises, 
as  she  should  guide  his  steps  to  the  picturesque 
walk  newly  opened,  to  the  rustic  bridge  span- 
ning the  stream,  to  the  rural  pavilion,  where, 
in  the  evening  twilight,  they  could  commune. 
She  often  rode  on  horseback  with  Hortense, 
who  was  peculiarly  fond  of  all  those  pleasures 
which  had  the  concomitants  of  graceful  display. 

After  Napoleon's  triumphant  return  from 
Italy,  the  visits  to  Malmaison  were  more  frequent 
than  ever  before.  Napoleon  and  Josephine 
often  spent  several  days  there  ; and  in  after  years 
they  frequently  spoke  of  these  hours  as  the 
pleasantest  they  had  passed  in  life.  The  agree- 
io 


146 


JOSEPHINE. 


able  retirement  of  Malmaison  was,  however, 
changed  into  enjoyment  more  public  and  social 
by  the  crowds  of  visitors  with  which  its  saloons 
and  parks  were  filled.  Josephine  received  her 
guests  with  republican  simplicity,  united  with 
the  utmost  elegance.  Her  reception-room  was 
continually  thronged  with  the  most  distin-' 
guished  officers  of  the  government,  renowned 
generals,  and  all  the  men  most  illustrious  for 
birth  and  talent  the  metropolis  contained. 

The  circle  assembled  here  was,  indeed,  a 
happy  one.  A peculiar  bond  of  union  existed 
through  out  the  whole  household,  for  Napoleon, 
as  well  as  Josephine,  secured  the  most  devoted 
attachment  of  all  the  servants.  One  of  their 
favorite  amusements  was  family  theatricals. 
Eugene  and  Hortense  took  an  active  part  in 
these  performances,  in  which  both  had  talents 
to  excel. 

But  the  favorite  and  most  characteristic 
amusement  at  Malmaison  was  the  game  of 
“ Prisoners,”  a common  game  among  the  school- 
boys of  France,  though  comparatively  little 
known  in  this  country.  The  company  is  divid- 
ed into  two  parties.  Those  who  are  appointed 
leaders  choose  each  their  respective  sides. 
Bounds  are  assigned  to  each  party,  and  a par- 
ticular point  as  a fortress.  If  any  one  is  caught 
away  from  the  fortress  by  one  who  left  his  own 
station  after  the  captive  left  the  hostile  fort,  he 


DEVELOPMENTS  OE  CHARACTER.  147 


is  a prisoner,  and  must  remain  at  the  appointed 
prison  until  rescued.  For  instance,  Hortense 
leaves  her  fortress,  and  cautiously  invades  the 
territory  of  the  enemy.  Josephine  darts  after 
her,  and  eagerly  pursues  her  over  the  green- 
sward. Eugene,  who  remains  at  his  fortress 
until  after  Josephine  left  hers,  bounds  after 
his  mother.  It  is  now  her  turn  to  flee.  But 
others  of  her  party,  who  have  remained  under 
the  protection  of  their  fortress,  rush  to  her  res- 
cue. Eugene,  however,  succeeds  in  touching  his 
mother  before  they  reach  him,  and  leads  her  off 
in  triumph  a prisoner.  A tree,  perhaps,  at  a 
little  distance,  is  her  prison.  Here  she  must 
remain  until  rescued  by  a touch  from  one  of  her 
own  party.  But  if  the  one  who  is  rushing  to 
her  rescue  is  touched  by  one  of  the  other  party 
who  left  his  fortress  an  instant  later,  another 
captive  is  taken  to  stand  by  her  side. 

In  this  mimicry  of  war  Napoleon  always  de- 
lighted to  engage.  After  dinner,  upon  the  lawn 
at  Malmaison,  the  most  distinguished  gentlemen 
and  ladies,  not  of  France  only,  but  of  all  Europe, 
were  often  actively  and  most  mirthfully  engaged 
in  this  sport.  Kings,  and  queens,  and  princes 
of  the  blood  royal  were  often  seen  upon  the  lawn 
at  Malmaison  pursuing  and  pursued.  Napo- 
leon and  Josephine,  and  most  of  the  friends  who 
surrounded  them,  were  in  the  vigor  of  athletic 
youth,  and,  in  entire  abandonment  to  the  frolic 


148 


JOSEPHINE. 


of  the  hour,  the  air  resounded  with  their  shouts. 
It  was  observed  that  Napoleon  was  ever  anxious 
to  choose  Josephine  as  the  first  on  his  side,  and 
he  seemed  nervously  excited,  if  she  was  taken 
prisoner,  until  she  was  rescued.  He  was  a poor 
runner,  and  often  fell,  rolling  over  headlong 
upon  the  grass,  while  he  and  all  his  associates 
were  convulsed  with  laughter.  When  there  was 
no  special  engagement  demanding  attention, 
this  sport  often  continued  for  hours.  Napoleon 
was  often  taken  captive.  But  when  Josephine 
was  imprisoned,  he  was  incessantly  clapping  his 
hands,  and  shouting,  “ A rescue  ! a rescue  ! ” 
till  she  was  released.  A gloomy  misanthrope, 
wrapped  in  self,  could  not  have  enjoyed  these 
scenes  of  innocent  hilarity. 

But  the  life  of  Josephine  was  not  devoted  to 
amusement.  While  she  entered  with  warmth 
into  these  sports,  being  the  soul  of  every  festive 
party,  her  heart  was  consecrated  to  the  promo- 
tion of  happiness  in  every  way  in  her  power* 
When  a child,  playing  with  the  little  negresses 
of  Martinique,  she  was  adored  as  their  queen. 
When  in  penury,  crossing  the  Atlantic,  by  kind 
sympathy  manifested  for  the  sick  and  the  sor- 
rowful, she  won  the  hearts  of  the  seamen.  When 
a prisoner,  under  sentence  of  death,  by  her 
cheerfulness,  her  forgetfulness  of  self,  and  her 
hourly  deeds  of  delicate  attention  toothers,  she 
became  an  object  of  universal  love  in  those  cells 


DEVELOPMENTS  OF  CHARACTER.  149 

of  cU  spair.  When  prosperity  again  dawned 
upon  her,  and  she  was  in  the  enjoyment  of  an 
ample  competence,  every  cottage  in  the  vicinity 
of  Malmaison  testified  to  her  benevolence.  And 
now,  when  placed  in  a position  of  power,  all  her 
influence  was  exerted  to  relieve  the  misfortunes 
of  those  illustrious  men  whom  the  storms  of 
revolution  had  driven  from  their  homes  and  from 
France.  She  never  forgot  the  unfortunate,  but 
devoted  a considerable  portion  of  her  income 
to  the  relief  of  the  emigrants.  She  was  at 
times  accused  of  extravagance.  Her  nature 
was  generous  in  the  extreme,  and  the  profusion 
of  her  expenditures  was  an  index  of  her  expan- 
sive benevolence. 

Napoleon,  soon  after  he  became  first  consul, 
published  a decree,  inviting  the  emigrants  to 
return,  and  did  what  he  could  to  restore*to  them 
their  confiscated  estates.  There  were,  however, 
necessarily  exceptions  from  the  general  act  of 
amnesty.  Cases  were  continually  arising  of 
peculiar  perplexity  and  hardship,  where  widows 
and  orphans,  reduced  from  opulence  to  penury, 
sought  lost  property,  which,  during  the  tumult 
of  the  times,  had  become  involved  in  inextrica- 
ble embarrassments.  All  such  persons  made 
application  to  Josephine.  She  ever  found  time 
to  listen  to  their  tales  of  sorrow,  to  speak  words 
of  sympathy*  .and,  with  great  soundness  of  judg- 
ment, to  render  them  all  the  aid  in  her  power. 


150 


JOSEPHINE. 


“ Josephine/'  said  Napolen,  in  reference  to 
these  her  applications  for  the  unfortunate/*  will 
not  take  a refusal.  But,  it  must  be  confessed, 
she  rarely  undertakes  a case  which  has  not  pro- 
priety, at  least,  on  its  side.”  The  Jacobin  laws 
had  fallen  with  fearful  severity  upon  all  the 
members  of  the  ancient  aristocracy  and  all  the 
friends  of  royalty.  The  cause  of  these  victims 
of  anarchy  Josephine  was  ever  ready  to  es- 
pouse. 

A noble  family  by  the  name  of  Decrest  had 
been  indebted  to  the  interposition  of  the  wife  of 
the  first  consul  for  their  permission  to  return  to 
France.  As  nearly  all  their  property  had  disap- 
peared during  their  exile,  Josephine  continued 
to  befriend  them  with  her  influence  and  her 
purse.  On  the  evening  of  a festival  day,  a 
grand  display  of  fireworks  was  exhibited  on 
the  banks  of  the  Seine.  A rocket,  misdirected, 
struck  a son  of  the  marquis  on  the  breast,  aud 
instantly  killed  him.  The  young  man,  who 
was  on  the  eve  of  his  marriage  to  the  daughter 
of  an  ancient  friend,  was  an  officer  of  great 
promise,  and  the  hope  of  the  declining  family. 
His  death  was  a terrible  calamity,  as  well  as  a 
most  afflictive  bereavement.  The  father  aban- 
doned himself  to  all  the  delirium  of  inconsolable 
grief,  and  was  so  utterly  lost  in  the  depths  of 
despair,  that  it  was  feared  his  mind  would 
never  again  recover  its  tone.  The  Duke  of 


Page  150.  the  interview. 


DEVELOPMENTS  OF  CHARACTER.  151 

Orleans  was  grand-uncle  of  the  young  man 
who  was  killed,  and  Madame  Montesson,  the 
mother  of  Louis  Philippe,  sent  for  her  distressed 
relatives  that  she  might  administer  to  their 
consolation.  All  her  endeavors,  however,  were 
entirely  unavailing. 

In  the  midst  of  this  afflictive  scene,  Josephine 
entered  the  saloon  of  Madame  Montesson.  Her 
own  heart  taught  her  that  in  such  a grief  as 
this  words  were  valueless.  Silently  she  took 
by  the  hand  the  eldest  daughter,  a beautiful 
girl,  whose  loveliness  plead  loudly  for  a father’s 
care,  and  in  the  other  arm  she  took  their  infant 
child  of  fifteen  months,  and,  with  her  own 
cheeks’bathed  in  tears,  she  kneeled  before  the 
stricken  mourner.  He  raised  his  eyes  and  saw 
Josephine,  the  wife  of  the  first  consul,  kneeling 
before  him,  and  imploringly  presenting  his  two 
children.  He  was  at  first  astonished  at  the 
sight.  Then,  bursting  into  tears,  he  exclaimed, 
“ Yes  ! I have  much  for  which  I am  yet  bound 
to  live.  These  children  have  claims  upon  me, 
and  I must  no  longer  yield  to  despair.”  A lady 
who  was  present  on  this  occasion  says,  “I  wit- 
nessed this  scene,  and  shall  never  forget  it. 
The  wife  of  the  first  consul  expressed,  in  lan- 
guage which  I will  not  attempt  to  imitate,  all 
that  tenderness  which  the  maternal  bosom  alone 
knows.  She  was  the  very  image  of  a minis- 
tering angel,  for  the  touching  charm  of  her 


152 


JOSEPHINE. 


voice  and  look  pertained  more  to  heaven  than 
to  earth.”  Josephine  had  herself  seen  days  as 
dark  as  could  lower  over  a mortals  path.  Love 
for  her  children  was  then  the  only  tie  which 
bound  her  to  life.  In  those  days  of  anguish  she 
learned  the  only  appeal  which,  under  these  cir- 
cumstances, could  touch  a despairing  father’s 
heart. 

Several  conspiracies  were  formed  about  this 
time  against  the  life  of  the  first  consul.  That 
of  the  Infernal  Machine  was  one  of  the  most 
desperate,  reckless,  and  atrocious  which  history 
has  recorded.  On  the  evening  of  December  24, 
1800,  Napoleon  was  going  to  the  opera.  Three 
gentlemen  were  with  him  in  his  carriage.  Jo- 
sephine, with  Hortense  and  one  or  two  others, 
followed  in  another  carriage.  In  passing  from 
the  Tuilleries  to  the  theater,  it  was  necessary 
to  pass  through  the  narrow  street  St.  Nicaire. 
A cart,  apparently  by  accident  overturned,  ob- 
structed the  passage.  The  coachman,  how- 
ever, who  was  driving  his  horses  very  rapidly, 
crowded  his  way  by.  He  had  barely  passed 
the  cart  when  a terrific  explosion  took  place, 
which  was  heard  all  over  Paris.  Eight  persons 
were  instantly  killed  and  more  than  sixty 
wounded.  Some  of  the  houses  in  the  vicinity 
were  nearly  blown  down.  The  windows  of  both 
the  carriages  were  shattered,  and  Hortense  was 
slightly  wounded  by  the  broken  glass.  Napo- 


DEVELOPMENTS  OF  CHARACTER.  153 


leon  drove  on  to  the  opera,  where  he  found  the 
audience  in  the  utmost  consternation,  for  the 
explosion  had  shaken  the  whole  city.  He  en- 
tered with  a countenance  as  perfectly  calm  and 
untroubled  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  occurred. 
Every  eye  was  fixed  upon  him.  As  soon  as  it 
was  perceived  that  his  person  was  safe,  thun- 
ders of  applause  shook  the  walls  of  the  theater. 
On  every  side  Napoleon  was  greeted  with  the 
aiost  devoted  expressions  of  attachment.  Soon 
Josephine  came  in„pale  and  trembling,  and, 
after  remaining  half  an  hour,  they  both  retired 
to  the  Tuilleries.  Napoleon  found  the  palace 
crowded  with  all  the  public  functionaries  of 
Paris,  who  had  assembled  to  congratulate  him 
upon  his  escape. 

The  life  of  Josephine  was  saved  on  this  oc- 
casion by  apparently  the  merest  accidentw  She 
had  recently  received  a magnificent  shawl,  a 
present  from  Constantinople,  and  was  preparing 
to  wear  it  that  evening  for  the  first  time.  Na- 
poleon, however,  in  playful  criticism,  con- 
demned the  shawl,  remarking  upon  its  pattern 
and  its  color,  and  commending  one  which  he 
deemed  far  more  beautiful.  “ You  are  a bold 
man,”  said  Josephine,  smiling,  “ in  venturing 
to  criticise  my  toilette.  I shall  take  my  revenge 
in  giving  you  a lesson  how  to  attack  a redoubt. 
However,”  she  continued,  turning  to  one  of  her 
attendants,  “ bring  me  the  generaPs  favorite. 


154 


JOSEPHINE. 


I will  wear  that/'  A delay  of  a few  moments 
was  caused  in  exchanging  the  shawls.  In  the 
mean  time,  Napoleon,  with  his  friends,  entered 
his  carriage  and  drove  on.  Josephine  soon  fol- 
lowed. She  had  but  just  entered  the  street  when 
the  explosion  took  place.  Had  she  followed, 
as  usual,  directly  behind  Napoleon,  her  death 
would  have  been  almost  inevitable. 

It  was  subsequently  ascertained,  greatly  to 
the  surprise  of  Napoleon  and  of  all  Europe, 
that  the  Royalists  were  the  agents  in  this  con- 
spiracy. Napoleon  had  been  their  benefactor, 
and  while  he  knew  it  to  be  impossible  to  replace 
the  Bourbons  upon  the  throne  of  France,  he 
did  everything  in  his  power  to  mitigate  the 
misfortunes  which  Jacobin  violence  had  inflicted 
upon  their  friends.  The  first  consul  made  no 
disguise  of  his  utter  detestation  of  the  Jacobins, 
and  of  their  reign  of  merciless  tyranny.  He 
consequently  supposed  that  they  were  the  au- 
thors of  the  atrocious  crime.  The  real  authors 
of  the  conspiracy  were,  however,  soon  discov- 
ered. Fouche,  whom  Bonaparte  disliked  ex- 
ceedingly for  his  inhuman  deeds  during  the 
Revolution,  was  the  Minister  of  Police.  Upon 
him  mainly  devolved  the  trial  and  the  punish- 
ment of  the  accused.  Josephine  immediately 
wrote  a letter  to  Fouche,  most  strikingly  indic- 
ative of  the  benevolence  of  her  noble  heart, 
and  of  that  strength  of  mind,  which  could  un- 


DEVELOPMENTS  OF  CHARACTER.  155 


derstand  that  the  claims  of  justice  must  not 
pass  unheeded. 

“ Citizen-Minister, — While  I yet  tremble 
at  the  frightful  event  which  has  just  occurred, 
I am  disquieted  and  distressed  through  fear  of 
the  punishment  necessarily  to  be  inflicted  on 
the  guilty,  who  belong,  it  is  said,  to  families 
with  whom  I once  lived  in  habits  of  intercourse. 
I shall  be  solicited  by  mothers,  sisters,  and  dis- 
consolate wives  ; and  my  heart  will  be  broken 
through  my  inability  to  obtain  all  the  mercy 
for  which  I would  plead. 

“ I know  that  the  clemency  of  the  first  con- 
sul is  great,  his  attachment  to  me  extreme  ; but 
the  crime  is  too  dreadful  that  terrible  example 
should  not  be  necessary.  The  chief  of  the  gov- 
ernment has  not  been  alone  exposed  ; and  it  is 
that  which  will  render  him  severe — inflexible 
I conjure  you,  therefore,  to  do  all  in  your  power 
to  prevent  inquiries  being  pushed  too  far.  Do 
not  detect  all  those  persons  who  may  have  been 
accomplices  in  these  odious  transactions.  Let 
not  France,  so  long  overwhelmed  in  consterna- 
tion by  public  executions,  groan  anew  beneath 
such  inflictions.  It  is  even  better  to  endeavor 
to  soothe  the  public  mind  than  to  exasperate 
men  by  fresh  terrors.  In  short,  when  the  ring- 
leaders of  this  nefarious  attempt  shall  have  been 
secured,  let  severity  give  place  to  pity  for  in- 
ferior agents,  seduced  as  they  may  have  been 


156 


JOSEPHINE. 


by  dangerous  falsehoods  or  exaggerated  opin- 
ions. 

“When  just  invested  with  supreme  power, 
the  first  consul,  as  seems  to  me,  ought  rather 
to  gain  hearts  than  to  be  exhibited  as  ruling 
slaves.  Soften  by  your  counsels  whatever  may 
be  too  violent  in  his  just  resentment.  Punish 
— alas  ! that  you  must  certainly  do — but  par- 
don still  more.  Be  also  the  support  of  those 
unfortunate  men  who,  by  frank  avowal  or  re- 
pentance, shall  expiate  a portion  of  their  crime. 

“ Having  myself  narrowly  escaped  perishing 
in  the  Revolution,  you  must  regard  as  quite 
natural  my  interference  on  behalf  of  those  who 
can  be  saved  without  involving  in  new  danger 
the  life  of  my  husband,  precious  to  me  and  to 
Prance.  On  this  account,  do,  I entreat  you, 
make  a wide  distinction  between  the  authors 
of  the  crime  and  those  who,  through  weakness 
or  fear,  have  consented  to  take  a part  therein. 
As  a woman,  a wife  and  a mother,  I must  feel 
the  heart-rendings  of  those  who  will  apply  to 
me.  Act,  citizen  minister,  in  such  a manner 
that  the  number  of  these  may  be  lessened. 
This  will  spare  me  much  grief.  Never  will  I 
turn  away  from  the  supplications  of  misfortune. 
But  in  the  present  instance  you  can  do  infi- 
nitely more  than  I,  and  you  will,  on  this  ac- 
count, excuse  my  importunity.  Rely  on  my 
gratitude  and  esteem.” 


DEVELOPMENTS  OF  CHARACTER.  157 

Hor tense  was  now  eighteen  years  of  age. 
Louis  Napoleon,  brother  of  the  first  consul, 
was  twenty-four.  The  plan  was  formed  by 
Napoleon  and  Josephine  of  uniting  them  in 
marriage.  Louis  was  a studious,  imaginative, 
pensive  man,  with  no  taste  for  the  glitter  and 
pomp  of  fashion,  and  with  a decided  aversion 
to  eartlTs  noisy  ambition.  He  loved  commun- 
ing with  his  own  thoughts,  the  falling  leaf* 
the  sighing  wind — the  fireside  with  its  books, 
its  solitude,  its  sacred  society  of  one  or  two 
congenial  friends.  He  belonged  to  that  class 
of  men,  always  imbued  with  deep  feeling, 
whose  happiness  is  only  found  in  those  hal- 
lowed affections  which  bind  kindred  hearts  in 
congenial  pursuits  and  joys.  As  Napoleon 
was  riding  triumphantly  upon  his  war-horse 
over  the  Austrian  squadrons  in  Italy,  achiev- 
ing those  brilliant  victories  which  paved  his 
way  to  the  throne  of  France,  Louis,  then  a 
young  man  but  nineteen  years  of  age,  met  in 
Paris  a young  lady,  the  daughter  of  an  emi- 
grant noble,  for  whom  he  formed  a strong  at- 
tachment, and  his  whole  soul  became  absorbed 
in  the  passion  of  love.  Napoleon  was  informed 
of  this  attachment,  and,  apprehensive  that  the 
alliance  of  his  brother  with  one  of  the  Royalist 
families  might  endanger  his  own  ambitious 
projects,  he  sent  him  away  on  a military  com- 
mission, and  with  his  inflexible  will  and  strong 


158 


JOSEPHINE. 


arm  broke  off  the  connection.  The  young 
lady  was  soon  .afterward  married  to  another 
gentleman,  and  poor  Louis  was  plunged  into 
depths  of  disappointment  and  melancholy, 
from  which  he  never  emerged.  Life  was  ever 
after  to  him  but  a cloudy  day,  till,  with  a grief- 
worn  spirit,  he  sank  into  the  grave. 

Napoleon,  conscious  of  the  wound  he  had  in- 
flicted upon  his  sensitive  brother,  endeavored, 
in  various  ways,  to  make  amends.  There  was 
very  much  in  his  gentle,  affectionate,  and  fer- 
vent spirit  to  attract  the  tender  regard  of 
Napoleon,  and  he  ever  after  manifested  to- 
ward him  a disposition  of  peculiar  kindness. 
It  was  long  before  Louis  would  listen  to  the 
proposition  of  his  marriage  with  Hortense. 
His  affections  still  clung,  though  hopelessly, 
yet  so  tenaciously  to  the  lost  object  of  his 
idolatry,  that  he  could  not  think,  without  pain, 
of  his  union  with  another.  More  uncongenial 
nuptials  could  hardly  have  been  imagined. 
Hortense  was  a beautiful,  merry,  thoughtless 
girl — amiable,  but  very  fond  of  excitement 
and  display.  In  the  ball-room,  the  theater, 
and  other  places  of  brilliant  entertainment, 
she  found  her  chief  pleasures.  In  addition  to 
this  incongruity,  she  was  already  in  love  with 
the  handsome  Du  roc,  the  favorite  aide  of  Na- 
poleon. It  was  not  strange  that  such  a young 
lady  should  have  seen  as  little  to  fancy  in  the 


DEVELOPMENTS  OF  CHARACTER.  159 

disappointed  and  melancholy  Louis  as  lie  could 
see  attractive  in  one  who  lived  but  for  the 
pageantry  of  the  passing  hour.  Thus  both 
parties  were  equally  averse  to  the  match.  The 
tact  of  Josephine,  however,  and  the  power  of 
Napoleon  combined,  soon  overcame  all  obsta- 
cles, and  the  mirth-loving  maiden  and  the  pen- 
sive scholar  were  led  to  their  untoward  nup- 
tials. Hortense  became  more  easily  reconciled 
to  the  match,  as  her  powerful  father  promised, 
in  consequence  of  this  alliance,  to  introduce 
her  to  seats  of  grandeur  where  all  her  desires 
should  be  gratified.  Louis,  resigning  himself 
to  any  lot  in  a world  which  had  no  further  joy 
in  store  for  him,  suffered  himself  to  be  con- 
ducted submissively  to  the  altar. 

At  the  fete  given  in  honor  of  this  marriage, 
the  splendors  of  ancient  royalty  seemed  to  be 
revived.  But  every  eye  could  see  the  sadness 
of  the  newly-married  bride  beneath  the  pro- 
fusion of  diamonds  and  flowers  with  which  she 
was  adorned.  Louis  Napoleon,  the  present 
President  of  the  French  Republic,  is  the  only 
surviving  offspring  of  this  uncongenial  union. 

The  gay  and  handsome  Duroc,  who  had  been 
the  accepted  lover  of  Hortense,  was  soon  after 
married  to  an  heiress,  who  brought  him,  with 
an  immense  fortune,  a haughty  spirit  and  an 
irritable  temper,  which  embittered  all  his  days. 
The  subsequent  life  of  Hortense  presents  one 


160 


JOSEPHINE. 


of  the  most  memorable  illustrations  of  the  in- 
sufficiency of  human  grandeur  to  promote 
happiness.  Josephine  witnessed  with  intense 
solicitude  the  utter  want  of  congeniality  ex- 
isting between  them,  and  her  heart  often  bled 
as  she  saw  alienation  growing  stronger  and 
stronger,  until  it  resulted  in  an  entire  separa- 
tion. Hortense  might  easily  have  won  and 
retained  the  affections  of  the  pensive  but  warm- 
hearted Louis,  had  she  followed  the  counsels 
of  her  noble  mother.  Josephine,  herself  the 
almost  perfect  model  of  a wife,  was  well  quali- 
fied to  give  advice  in  such  a case.  The  fol- 
lowing letter,  written  to  Hortense  some  time 
before  her  separation  from  Louis,  exhibits 
in  a most  amiable  light  the  character  of  Jo- 
sephine. 

To  Queen  Hortense . 

“ What  I learned  eight  days  ago  gave  me  the 
greatest  pain.  What  I observe  to-day  confirms 
and  augments  my  sorrow.  Why  show  to  Louis 
this  repugnance  ? Instead  of  rendering  him 
more  ungracious  still  by  caprice,  by  inequality 
of  character,  why  do  you  not  rather  make  efforts 
to  surmount  your  indifference  ? But  you  will 
say,  he  is  not  amiable  ! All  that  is  relative. 
If  not  in  your  eyes  amiable,  he  may  appear  so 
to  others,  and  all  women  do  not  view  him 
through  the  medium  of  dislike.  As  for  myself, 


DEVELOPMENTS  OF  CHARACTER.  1G1 

who  am  here  altogether  disinterested,  I imagine 
that  I behold  him  as  he  is,  more  loving,  doubt- 
less, then  lovable , but  this  is  a great  and  rare 
quality.  He  is  generous,  beneficent,  feeling, 
and,  above  all,  an  excellent  father.  If  you  so 
willed,  he  would  prove  a good  husband.  His 
melancholy,  his  love  of  study  and  retirement, 
injure  him  in  your  estimation.  For  these,  I 
ask  you,  is  he  to  blame  ? Is  he  obliged  to  con- 
form his  nature  to  circumstances  ? Who  could 
have  predicted  to  him  his  fortune  ? But,  ac- 
cording to  you,  he  has  not  even  the  courage  to 
bear  that  fortune.  This,  I believe,  is  an  error  ; 
but  he  certainly  wants  the  strength . With  his 
ascetic  inclinations,  his  invincible  desire  of  re- 
tirement and  study,  he  finds  himself  misplaced 
in  the  elevated  rank  to  which  he  has  attained. 
You  desire  that  he  should  imitate  his  brother. 
Give  him,  first  of  all,  the  same  temperament. 
You  have  not  failed  to  remark  that  almost  our 
entire  existence  depends  upon  our  health,  and 
that  upon  our  digestion.  Let  poor  Louis  digest 
better,  and  you  would  find  him  more  amiable. 
But,  such  as  he  is,  there  can  be  no  reason  for 
abandoning  him,  or  making  him  feel  the  un- 
becoming sentiments  with  which  he  inspires 
you.  Do  you,  whom  I have  seen  so  kind,  con- 
tinue to  be  so  at  the  moment  when  it  is  pre- 
cisely more  than  ever  necessary.  Take  pity  on  a 
man  who  has  to  lament  that  he  possesses  what 
11 


162 


JOSEPHINE. 


would  constitute  another’s  happiness ; and,  be- 
fore condemning  him,  think  of  others  who,  like 
him,  have  groaned  beneath  the  burden  of  their 
greatness,  and  bathed  with  their  tears  that 
diadem  which  they  believed  had  never  been 
destined  for  their  brow.” 

This,  surely,  was  admirable  counsel,  and, 
had  Hortense  followed  it,  she  would  have  saved 
herself  many  a long  year  of  loneliness  and 
anguish.  But  the  impetuous  and  thoughtless 
bride  could  not  repress  the  repugnance  with 
which  she  regarded  the  cold  exterior  and  the 
exacting  love  of  her  husband.  Louis  demanded 
from  her  a singleness  and  devotedness  of  af- 
fection which  was  unreasonable.  He  wished  to 
engross  all  her  faculties  of  loving.  He  desired 
that  every  passion  of  her  soul  should  be  cen- 
tered in  him,  and  was  jealous  of  any  happiness 
she  found  excepting  that  which  he  could  give. 
He  was  even  troubled  by  the  tender  regard  with 
which  she  cherished  her  mother  and  her 
brother,  considering  all  the  love  she  gave  to 
them  as  so  much  withheld  from  him.  Horflense 
was  passionately  fond  of  music  and  of  painting. 
Louis  almost  forbade  her  the  enjoyment  of 
those  delightful  accomplishments,  thinking 
that  she  pursued  them  with  a heartfelt  devotion 
inconsistent  with  that  supreme  love  with  which 
she  ought  to  regard  her  husband.  Hortense, 
proud  and  high-spirited,  would  not  submit  to 


DEVELOPMENTS  OF  CHARACTER.  163 


such  tyranny.  She  resisted  and  retaliated. 
She  became,  consequently,  wretched,  and  her 
husband  wretched,  and  discord  withered  all  the 
joys  of  home.  At  last,  the  union  of  such  dis- 
cordant spirits  became  utterly  insupportable. 
They  separated.  The  story  of  their  domestic 
quarrels  vibrated  upon  the  ear  of  Europe. 
Louis  wandered  here  and  there,  joyless  and 
sad,  till,  weary  of  a miserable  life,  alone  and 
friendless,  he  died.  Hortense  retired,  with  a 
restless  and  suffering  heart,  to  the  mountains 
of  Switzerland,  where,  in  a secluded  castle,  she 
lingered  out  the  remaining  years  of  her  sorrow- 
ful pilgrimage.  It  was  an  unfortunate  match. 
Having  been  made,  the  only  possible  remedy 
was  in  pursuing  the  course  which  Josephine  so 
earnestly  recommended.  Had  Josephine  been 
married  to  Louis,  she  would  have  followed  the 
course  she  counseled  her  daughter  to  pursue. 
She  would  have  leaned  fondly  upon  his  arm  in 
his  morning  and  evening  walks.  She  would 
have  cultivated  a lively  interest  in  his  reading, 
his  studies,  and  all  his  quiet  domestic  pleasures. 
She  would,  as  far  as  possible,  have  relinquished 
every  pursuit  which  could  by  any  possibility 
have  caused  him  pain.  Thus  she  would  have 
won  his  love  and  his  admiration.  Every  day 
her  power  over  him  would  have  been  increasing. 
Gradually  her  influence  would  have  molded  his 
character  to  a better  model.  He  would  have 


164 


JOSEPHINE. 


become  proud  of  his  wife.  He  would  have 
leaned  upon  her  arm.  He  would  have  been 
supported  by  her  affection  and  her  intellectual 
strength.  He  would  have  become  more  cheer- 
ful in  character  and  resolute  in  purpose.  Days 
of  tranquillity  and  happiness  would  have  embel- 
lished their  dwelling.  The  spirit  of  Josephine  ! 
It  is  nolle  as  well  as  lovely . It  accomplishes 
the  most  exalted  achievements,  and  diffuses  the 
most  ennobling  happiness.  There  are  thousands 
of  unions  as  uncongenial  as  that  of  Hortense 
and  Louis.  From  the  woes  such  unions  would 
naturally  engender  there  is  but  one  refuge,  and 
Josephine  has  most  beautifully  shown  what 
that  refuge  is.  Hortense,  proud  and  high- 
spirited,  resolved  that  she  would  not  submit  to 
the  exacting  demands  of  her  husband.  In  her 
sad  fate  we  read  the  warning  not  to  imitate  her 
example. 

Hortense  is  invariably  described  as  an  un- 
usually fascinating  woman.  She  had  great 
vivacity  of  mind,  and  displayed  much  brilliance 
of  conversational  powers.  Her  person  was 
finely  formed,  and  she  inherited  much  of  that 
graceful  demeanor  which  so  signally  character- 
ized her  mother.  She  was  naturally  amiable, 
and  was  richly  endowed  with  all  those  accom- 
plishments which  enable  one  to  excel  in  the  art 
of  pleasing.  Louis,  more  than  any  other  of 
the  brothers,  most  strongly  resembled  Napo- 


DEVELOPMENTS  OF  CHARACTER.  165 

leon.  He  was  a very  handsome  man,  and  pos- 
sessed far  more  than  ordinary  abilities.  Under 
less  untoward  circumstances  he  might  have 
been  eminently  happy.  Few  persons,  however, 
have  journeyed  along  the  path  of  life  under  a 
darker  cloud  than  that  which  ever  shed  its 
gloom  upon  the  footsteps  of  Louis  and  Hor- 
tense. 

Among  the  various  attempts  which  had  been 
made  to  produce  alienation  between  Napoleon 
and  Josephine,  one  of  the  most  atrocious  was 
the  whispered  insinuation  that  the  strong  affec- 
tion which  the  first  consul  manifested  for  Hor 
tense  was  a guilty  passion.  Napoleon  exhib- 
ited in  the  most  amiable  manner  his  qualities  as 
a father,  in  the  frequent  correspondence  he 
carried  on  with  the  two  children  of  Josephine, 
in  the  interest  he  took  in  their  studies,  and  in 
the  solicitude  he  manifested  to  promote  their 
best  welfare.  He  loved  Hortense  as  if  she  had 
been  his  own  child.  Josephine  was  entirely 
impregnable  against  any  jealousy  to  be  intro- 
duced from  that  quarter,  and  a peaceful  smile 
was  her  only  reply  to  all  such  insinuations. 
Hortense  had  also  heard,  and  had  utterly  dis- 
regarded, these  rumors.  The  marriage  of  Hor- 
tense to  a brother  of  Napoleon  had  entirely 
silenced  the  calumny,  and  it  was  soon  forgot- 
ten. 

Subsequently,  when  Hortense  had  become 


166 


JOSEPHINE. 


entirely  alienated  from  her  husband,  and  was 
resolved  upon  a separation,  Josephine  did  every- 
thing in  her  power  to  dissuade  her  from  an  act 
so  rash,  so  disgraceful,  so  ruinous  to  her  happi- 
ness. She  wrote  to  her  in  terms  of  the  most 
earnest  entreaty.  The  self-willed  queen,  an- 
noyed by  these  remonstrances,  and  unable  to 
reply  to  them,  ventured  to  intimate  to  her 
mother  that  perhaps  she  was  not  entirely  disin- 
terested in  her  opposition.  In  most  guarded 
terms  she  suggested  that  her  mother  had  heard 
the  groundless  accusation  of  Napoleon’s  undue 
fondness,  and  that  it  was  possible  that  her 
strong  opposition  to  the  separation  of  Hortense 
from  her  husband  might  originate  in  the  fear 
that  Hortense  might  become,  in  some  degree, 
her  rival  in  the  affections  of  Napoleon.  J oseph- 
ine  very  promptly  and  energetically  replied, 

“ You  have  misunderstood  me  entirely,  my 
child.  There  is  nothing  equivocal  in  my  words, 
as  there  cannot  exist  an  uncandid  sentiment  in 
my  heart.  How  could  you  imagine  that  I could 
participate  in  opinions  so  ridiculous  and  so 
malicious  ? No,  Hortense,  you  do  not  think 
that  I believe  you  to  be  my  rival.  We  do,  in- 
deed, both  reign  in  the  same  heart,  though  by 
very  different,  yet  by  equally  sacred  rights. 
And  they  who,  in  the  affection  which  my  hus- 
band manifests  for  you,  have  pretended  to  dis- 
cover other  sentiments  than  those  of  a parent 


DEVELOPMENTS  OF  CHARACTER.  167 

and  a friend,  know  not  his  soul.  His  mind  is 
too  elevated  above  that  of  the  vulgar  to  be  ever 
accessible  to  unworthy  passions.  The  passion  of 
glory,  if  you  will,  engrosses  him  too  entirely  for 
our  repose  ; but  glory,  at  least,  inspires  nothing 
which  is  vile.  Such  is  my  profession  of  faith 
respecting  Napoleon.  I make  this  confession 
to  you  in  all  sincerity,  that  I may  allay  your 
inquietudes.  When  I recommended  you  to 
love,  or,  at  least,  not  to  repulse  Louis,  I spoke 
to  you  in  my  character  of  an  experienced  wife, 
an  attentive  mother,  and  a tender  friend,  and 
in  this  threefold  relation  do  I now  embrace 
you." 


168 


JOSEPHINE. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  CORONATION. 

Early  in  the  year  1802  Josephine  accom- 
panied Napoleon  in  various  excursions  to  dis- 
tant parts  of  the  empire.  She  went  with  him 
to  Lyons  to  meet  the  Italian  deputies,  who  had 
assembled  there  to  confer  upon  him  the  dignity 
of  President  of  the  Cisalpine  Republic.  The 
entertainments  in  Lyons  upon  this  occasion 
were  arranged  with  regal  magnificence.  Joseph- 
ine, by  her  grace  and  affability,  secured  uni- 
versal admiration,  and  every  tongue  was  elo- 
quent in  her  praises.  Each  succeeding  month 
seemed  now  to  bring  some  new  honor  to  Joseph- 
ine. Her  position  as  wife  of  the  .first  consul, 
her  known  influence  over  her  husband,  and  the 
almost  boundless  popularity  he  had  acquired 
over  the  minds  of  his  countrymen,  who  were 
ever  conducting  him  by  rapid  strides  to  new 
accessions  of  power,  surrounded  her  with  mul- 
titudes striving  in  every  way  to  ingratiate  them- 
selves into  her  favor. 

From  Lyons  they  returned  to  their  beloved 


THE  CORONATION. 


169 


retreat  at  Malmaison,  where  they  passed  several 
weeks.  But  place  and  power  had  already  de- 
prived them  of  retirement.  Napoleon  was  en- 
tirely engrossed  with  his  vast  projects  of  ambi- 
tion. The  avenue  to  their  rural  mansion  was 
unceasingly  thronged  with  carriages,  and  the 
saloon  of  Josephine  was  ever  filled  with  the 
most  illustrious  guests. 

One  day  Josephine  happened  to  be  in  the 
cabinet  with  her  husband  alone.  A man, 
whose  coat  was  much  the  worse  for  wear,  and 
whose  whole  appearance  presented  many  indi- 
cations of  the  struggle  with  poverty,  was 
ushered  into  the  room.  He  appeared  greatly 
embarrassed,  and  at  length  with  much  con- 
fusion introduced  himself  as  the  writing- 
master  at  Brienne  who  had  taught  the  first 
consul  handwriting.  “ And  a fine  penman 
you  made  of  me  ! ” exclaimed  Napoleon,  in 
affected  anger.  €€  Ask  my  wife  there  what  she 
thinks  of  my  writing.”  The  poor  man  stood 
trembling  in  trepidation,  when  Josephine 
looked  up  with  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles,  and 
said,  “I  assure  you,  sir,  his  letters  are  per- 
fectly delightful.”  Napoleon  laughed  at  the 
well-timed  compliment,  and  settled  upon  the 
writing-master  a small  annuity  for  life.  It 
was  a noble  trait  in  the  character  of  the  first 
consul  that  in  his  days  of  power  he  was  ever 
mindful  of  those  who  were  the  friends  of  his 


170 


JOSEPHINE. 


early  years.  All  the  instructors  of  the  school 
he  attended  at  Brienne  were  thus  remembered 
by  him. 

JTapoleon  and  Josephine  now  made  the  tour 
of  the  northern  provinces  of  France.  They 
were  everywhere  received  with  unbounded  en- 
thusiasm. The  first  consul  had,  indeed,  con- 
ferred the  greatest  blessings  on  his  country. 
He  had  effectually  curbed  the  Revolutionary 
fury.  He  had  established  the  reign  of  law. 
Thousands  of  exiles  he  had  restored  to  their 
homes  rejoicing.  The  discomfited  armies  of 
France  he  had  led  to  new  and  brilliant  victo- 
ries. Under  his  administration  every  branch 
of  business  had  revived.  From  every  part  of 
the  empire  Napoleon  received  the  most  enthu- 
siastic expressions  of  gratitude  and  attachment. 
He  now  began  more  seriously  to  contemplate 
ascending  the  throne  of  France.  Conscious  of 
his  own  power,  and  ambitious  of  the  glory  of 
elevating  his  country  to  the  highest  pinnacle 
of  earthly  greatness,  and  witnessing  the  enthu- 
siasm of  admiration  which  his  deeds  had  ex- 
cited in  the  public  mind,  he  no  longer  doubted 
that  his  countrymen  would  soon  be  ready  to 
place  the  scepter  of  empire  in  his  hands.  He 
thought  that  the  pear  was  now  ripe. 

Josephine  ever  enjoyed  most  highly  accom- 
panying her  husband  on  these  tours,  and  she, 
on  such  occasions,  manifested,  in  the  most  at- 


THE  CORONATION. 


171 


tractive  manner,  her  readiness  to  sacrifice  her 
own  personal  comfort  to  promote  the  happi- 
ness of  others.  Napoleon  was  in  the  habit  of 
moving  with  such  rapidity,  and  of  setting  out 
so  unexpectedly  upon  these  journeys,  and  he 
was  so  peremptory  in  his  injunctions  as  to  the 
places  where  he  intended  to  halt,  that  often  no 
suitable  accommodations  could  be  provided  for 
Josephine  and  her  attendant  ladies.  No  com- 
plaint, however,  was  ever  heard  from  her  lips. 
No  matter  how  great  the  embarrassment  she 
encountered,  she  ever  exhibited  the  same  im- 
perturbable cheerfulness  and  good  humor. 
She  always  manifested  much  more  solicitude  in 
reference  to  the  accommodation  of  her  attend- 
ants than  for  her  own  comfort.  She  would 
herself  visit  their  apartments,  and  issue  per- 
sonal directions  to  promote  their  convenience. 
One  night,  just  as  she  was  about  to  retire  to 
rest,  she  observed  that  her  waiting-woman  had 
but  a single  mattress,  spread  upon  the  floor, 
for  her  repose.  She  immediately,  with  her  own 
hands,  took  from  the  bed  destined  for  herself 
another  mattress,  and  supplied  the  deficiency* 
that  her  waiting-woman  might  sleep  more  com- 
fortably. Whenever  any  of  her  household  were 
sick,  Josephine  promptly  visited  their  bedside, 
and  with  her  own  hands  ministered  to  their 
wants.  She  would  remember  them  at  her  own 
table,  and  from  the  luxurious  viands  spread  out 


172  JOSEPHIXE. 

before  her,  would  select  delicacies  which  might 
excite  a failing  appetite.  It  often  happened, 
in  these  sudden  and  hasty  journeys,  that,  from 
want  of  accommodation,  some  of  the  party 
were  compelled  to  remain  in  the  carriages 
while  Napoleon  and  Josephine  dined.  In  such 
cases  they  were  never  forgotten.  This  was  not 
policy  and  artifice  on  the  part  of  Josephine, 
but  the  instinctive  dictates  of  a heart  over- 
flowing with  benevolence. 

On  Napoleon's  return  from  this  tour  he  took 
possession  of  the  palace  of  St.  Cloud.  This 
was  another  step  toward  the  throne  of  the 
Bourbons.  This  magnificent  abode  of  ancient 
grandeur  had  been  repaired  and  most  gor- 
geously furnished.  The  versatile  French,  weary 
of  Republican  simplicity,  witnessed  with  joy 
the  indications  of  a return  of  regal  magnifi- 
cence. A decree  also  granted  to  Josephine 
“ four  ladies,  to  assist  her  in  doing  the  honors 
of  the  palace."  No  occupant  of  these  splendid 
saloons  ever  embellished  them  more  richly  by 
the  display  of  queenly  graces  than  did  Jo- 
sephine ; and  Napoleon,  now  constituted  first 
consul  for  life,  reigned  with  pomp  and  power 
which  none  of  his  predecessors  had  ever  sur- 
passed. The  few  remaining  forms  of  the  Re- 
public rapidly  disappeared.  Josephine  ex- 
erted much  influence  over  her  husband's  mind 
in  inducing  him  to  re-establish  the  institutions 


THE  CORONATION.  178 

of  the  Christian  religion.  Napoleon  at  that 
time  did  not  profess  to  have  any  faith  in  the 
divine  origin  of  Christianity.  Infidelity  had 
swept  resistlessly  over  France,  and  nearly  every 
man  of  any  note  in  the  camp  and  in  the  court 
was  an  unbeliever.  He  was,  consequently,  very 
bitterly  opposed  in  all  his  endeavors  to  rein- 
state Christianity.  One  evening  he  was  walk- 
ing upon  the  terrace  of  his  garden  at  Mal- 
maison,  most  earnestly  conversing  with  some 
influential  members  of  the  government  upon 
this  subject. 

“ Religion,”  said  he,  “ is  something  which 
cannot  be  eradicated  from  the  heart  of  man. 
He  must  believe  in  a superior  being.  Who 
made  all  that  ? ” he  continued,  pointing  to  the 
stars  brilliantly  shining  in  the  evening  sky. 
“ Last  Sunday  evening  I was  walking  here 
alone,  when  the  church  bells  of  the  village  of 
Euel  rang  at  sunset.  I was  strongly  moved,  so 
vividly  did  the  image  of  early  days  come  back 
with  that  sound.  If  it  be  thus  with  me,  what 
must  it  be  with  others  ? Let  your  philosophers 
answer  that,  if  they  can.  It  is  absolutely  in- 
dispensable to  have  a religion  for  the  people. 
In  re-establishing  Christianity,  I consult  the 
wishes  of  a great  majority  of  the  French 
nation.” 

Josephine  probably  had  very  little  religious 
knowledge.  She  regarded  Christianity  as  a 


174 


JOSEPHINE. 


sentiment  rather  than  a principle.  She  felt 
the  poetic  beauty  of  its  revelations  and  its  ordi- 
nances. She  knew  how  holy  were  its  charities, 
how  pure  its  precepts,  how  ennobling  its  in- 
fluences, even  when  encumbered  with  the 
grossest  superstitions.  She  had  seen,  and 
dreadfully  had  she  felt,  what  France  was  with- 
out religion — with  marriage  a mockery,  con- 
cience  a phantom,  and  death  proclaimed  to  all 
an  eternal  sleep.  She  therefore  most  warmly 
seconded  her  husband  in  all  endeavors  to  re- 
store again  to  desolated  France  the  religion  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

The  next  morning  after  the  issuing  of  the 
proclamation  announcing  the  re-establishment 
of  public  worship,  a grand  religious  ceremony 
took  place  in  honor  of  the  occasion  in  the 
church  of  Notre  Dame.  Napoleon,  to  produce 
a deep  impression  upon  the  public  mind,  in- 
vested the  occasion  with  all  possible  pomp. 
As  he  was  preparing  to  go  to  the  Cathedral, 
one  of  his  colleagues,  Cambaceres,  entered  the 
room. 

“Well,”  said  the  first  consul,  rubbing  his 
hands  in  fine  spirits,  “ we  go  to  church  this 
morning  ; what  say  they  to  that  in  Paris  ? ” 

“Many  people,”  replied  Cambaceres,  “pro- 
pose to  attend  the  first  representation  in  order 
to  hiss  the  piece,  should  they  not  find  it  amus- 
ing.” 


THE  CORONATION. 


175 


“If  any  one  takes  it  into  his  head  to  hiss,  I 
shall  put  him  out  of  the  door  by  the  grenadiers 
of  the  consular  guard. ” 

“ But  what  if  the  grenadiers  themselves  take 
to  hissing  like  the  rest  ?” 

“As  to  that,  I have  no  fear.  My  old  mus- 
taches will  go  here  to  Notre  Dame  just  as  at 
Cairo  they  would  have  gone  to  the  mosque. 
They  will  remark  how  I do,  and  seeing  their 
general  grave  and  decent,  they  will  be  so  too, 
passing  the  watchword  to  each  other,  Decency  ! ” 
In  the  noble  proclamation  which  the  first 
consul  issued  upon  this  great  event,  he  says, 
“ An  insane  policy  has  sought,  during  the  Rev- 
olution, to  smother  religious  dissensions  under 
the  ruins  of  the  altar,  under  the  ashes  of  relig- 
ion itself.  At  its  voice  all  those  pious  solemni- 
ties ceased  in  which  the  citizens  called  each 
other  by  the  endearing  name  of  brothers,  and 
acknowledged  their  common  equality  in  the 
sight  of  Heaven.  The  dying,  left  alone  in  his 
agonies,  no  longer  heard  that  consoling  voice 
which  calls  the  Christian  to  a better  world. 
God  himself  seemed  exiled  from  the  face  of  na- 
ture. Ministers  of  the  religion  of  peace  ! let  a 
complete  oblivion  veil  over  your  dissensions, 
your  misfortunes,  your  faults.  Let  the  religion 
which  unites  you  bind  you  by  indissoluble  cords 
to  the  interests  of  your  country.  Citizens  of 
the  Protestant  faith  ! the  law  has  equally  ex- 


176 


JOSEPHINE. 


tended  its  solicitude  to  your  interests.  Let  the 
morality,,  so  pure,  so  holy,  so  brotherly,  which 
you  profess,  unite  you  all  in  love  to  your  coun- 
try and  respect  for  its  laws  ; and,  above  all, 
never  permit  disputes  on  doctrinal  points  to 
weaken  that  universal  charity  which  religion 
at  once  inculcates  and  commands.” 

This,  surely,  is  a great  triumph  of  Christian- 
ity. A manlike  Napoleon,  even  though  not  at 
the  time  a believer  in  its  divine  origin,  was  so 
perfectly  satisfied  of  its  beneficial  influence  upon 
mankind,  that,  as  a matter  of  state  policy,  he 
felt  compelled  to  reinstate  its  observances. 

Josephine  cherished  emotions  of  the  deepest 
gratitude  toward  all  those  who  had  proved 
friendly  to  her  in  the  days  of  her  adversity. 
Napoleon,  with  his  strong  prejudices,  often  took 
a dislike  to  those  whom  Josephine  loved.  Ma- 
dame Tallien,  the  companion  of  Josephine  in 
her  captivity  and  her  benefactor  after  her  re- 
lease, was,  for  some  unknown  reason,  peculiarly 
obnoxious  to  Napoleon.  She  was  extremely 
beautiful  and  very  ambitious,  and  her  exclusion 
from  the  splendors  of  the  new  court,  now  daily 
becoming  more  brilliant,  mortified  her  exceed- 
ingly. Josephine  also  was  greatly  troubled. 
She  could  not  disregard  the  will  of  her  husband, 
and  her  heart  recoiled  from  the  thought  of  in- 
gratitude toward  one  who  had  been  her  friend 
in  adversity.  At  this  time,  in  Paris,  pleasure 


THE  CORONATION. 


177 


seemed  to  be  the  universal  object  of  pursuit. 
All  the  restraints  of  religion  had  been  swept 
away,  and  masked  balls,  gambling,  and  every 
species  of  dissipation  attracted  to  the  metropo- 
lis the  wealthy  and  the  dissolute  from  all  parts 
of  Europe.  Napoleon  never  made  his  appear- 
ance in  any  of  these  reckless  scenes  of  revelry. 
He  ever  was  an  inveterate  enemy  to  gambling 
in  all  its  forms,  and  had  no  relish  for  luxurious 
indulgence.  Josephine,  however,  accompanied 
by  Eugene,  occasionally  looked  in  upon  the 
dancers  at  the  masked  bails.  On  one  of  these 
occasions  a noble  lady  witnessed  an  incident 
which  she  has  recorded  in  the  following  words  : 
“ Chance  rendered  me  witness  of  a singular 
scene  at  one  of  these  balls.  It  was  near  two 
o’clock  in  the  morning,  the  crowd  immense, 
and  the  heat  overpowering.  I had  ascended 
for  a few  moments  to  the  apartments  above, 
and  refreshed  by  the  eool  air,  was  about  to  de- 
scend, when  the  sound  of  voices  in  the  adjoining 
room,  in  earnest  conversation,  caught  my  at- 
tention. Applying  my  ear  to  the  partition,  the 
name  of  Bonaparte,  and  the  discovery  that  Jo- 
sephine and  Madame  Tallien  were  the  speak- 
ers, excited  a real  curiosity.  “ I assure  you, 
my  dear  Theresina,”  said  Josephine,  “ that  I 
have  done  all  that  friendship  could  dictate,  but 
in  vain.  No  later  than  this  morning  I made  a 
new  effort.  Bonaparte  would  hear  of  nothing. 

12 


178 


JOSEPHINE. 


I cannot  comprehend  what  can  have  prejudiced 
him  so  strongly  against  you.  You  are  the  only 
woman  whose  name  he  has  effaced  from  the  list 
of  my  particular  friends  ; and  from  fear  lest  he 
should  manifest  his  displeasure  directly  against 
us  have  I now  come  hither  alone  with  my  son. 
At  this  moment  they  believe  me  sound  asleep 
in  my  bed  at  the  Tuilleries  ; but  I determined 
on  coming  to  see,  to  warn,  and  to  console  you, 
and,  above  all,  to  justify  myself.” 

“ My  dear  Josephine,”  Madame  Tallien  re- 
plied, “I  have  never  doubted  either  the  good- 
ness of  your  heart  or  the  sincerity  of  your  affec- 
tion. Heaven  is  my  witness  that  the  loss  of 
your  friendship  would  be  to  me  much  more 
painful  than  any  dread  of  Bonaparte.  In  these 
difficult  times,  I have  maintained  a conduct 
that  might,  perhaps,  render  my  visit  an  honor, 
but  I will  never  importune  you  to  receive  me 
without  his  consent.  He  was  not  consul  when 
Tallien  followed  him  into  Egypt,  when  I re- 
ceived you  both  into  my  house,  when  I shared 

with  you ” Here  she  burst  into  tears,  and 

her  voice  became  inaudible. 

“ Calm  yourself,  my  dear  Theresina,”  Jo- 
sephine rejoined  ; “be  calm,  and  let  the  storm 
pass.  I am  paving  the  way  for  a reconciliation, 
but  we  must  not  irritate  him  more.  You 
know  that  he  does  not  love  Ouvrard,  and  it  is 
said  that  he  often  sees  you.” 


THE  CORONATION. 


179 


“ What,  then,”  Madame  Tallien  replied, 
"because  he  governs  France,  does  he  expect  to 
tyrannize  over  our  hearts  ? Must  we  sacrifice 
to  him  our  private  friendships  ? ” 

At  that  moment  some  one  knocked  at  the 
door,  and  Eugene  Beauharnais  entered.  " Ma- 
dame,” said  he  to  his  mother,  " you  have  been 
now  more  than  an  hour  absent.  The  council 
of  ministers  is  perhaps  over.  What  will  the 
first  consul  say,  should  he  not  find  you  on  his 
return  ? ” The  two  ladies  then,  arm  in  arm, 
descended  the  stairs,  conversing  in  earnest  whis- 
pers, followed  by  Eugene. 

This  Ouvrard,  to  whom  allusion  is  made 
above,  was  a famous  banker  in  Paris,  of  enor- 
mous wealth,  and  engaged  in  the  most  wild 
and  extravagant  speculations. 

It  now  began  to  be  rumored  that  Napoleon 
would  soon  be  crowned  as  king.  Very  many  of 
the  nation  desired  it,  and  though  there  was  as 
yet  no  public  declaration,  vague  hints  and 
floating  rumors  filled  the  air.  Josephine  was 
greatly  disquieted.  It  seemed  more  and  more 
important  that  Napoleon  should  have  an  heir. 
There  was  now  no  prospect  that  Josephine 
would  ever  become  again  a mother.  She  heard, 
with  irrepressible  anguish,  that  it  had  been 
urged  upon  her  husband  that  the  interests  of 
France  required  that  he  should  obtain  a divorce, 
and  marry  again  ; that  alliance  \vith  one  of  the 


180 


JOSEPHINE. 


ancient  royal  families  of  Europe,  and  the  birth 
of  a son,  to  whom  he  could  transmit  his  crown, 
would  place  his  power  upon  an  impregnable 
foundation.  Josephine  could  not  but  perceive 
the  apparent  policy  of  the  great  wrong.  And 
though  she  knew  that  Napoleon  truly  and 
tenderly  loved  her,  she  also  feared  that  there 
was  no  sacrifice  which  he  was  not  ready  to 
make  in  obedience  to  the  claims  of  his  towering 
ambition. 

One  day  she  softly  entered  the  cabinet  with- 
out being  announced.  Bonaparte  and  Bour- 
rienne  were  conversing  together.  The  day 
before,  an  article  appeared  in  the  Moniteur, 
evidently  preparing  the  way  for  the  throne. 
Josephine  gently  approached  her  husband,  sat 
down  upon  his  knee,  affectionately  passed  her 
hand  through  his  hair  and  over  his  face,  and, 
with  moistened  eyes  and  a burst  of  tenderness, 
exclaimed,  “I  entreat  you,  mon  ami,  do  not 
make  yourself  a king.  It  is  Lucien  who  urges 
you  to  it.  Do  not  even  listen  to  him.” 

Bonaparte,  smiling  very  pleasantly,  replied, 
“ Why,  my  dear  Josephine,  you  are  crazy. 
You  must  not  listen  to  these  tales  of  the  old 
dowagers.  But  you  interrupt  us  now.  I am 
very  busy.” 

During  the  earlier  period  of  Napoleon’s  con- 
sulship, like  the  humblest  citizen,  he  occupied 
the  same  bed-chamber  with  his  spouse.  But 


THE  CORONATION. 


181 


now  that  more  of  regal  ceremony  and  state  was 
being  introduced  to  the  consular  establishment, 
their  domestic  intercourse,  to  the  great  grief 
of  Josephine,  assumed  more  of  cold  formality. 
Separate  apartments  were  assigned  to  Josephine 
at  a considerable  distance  from  those  occupied 
by  her  husband,  and  it  was  necessary  to  traverse 
a long  corridor  to  pass  from  one  to  the  other. 
The  chambers  of  the  principal  ladies  of  the  court 
opened  upon  this  corridor  from  the  right  and 
the  left.  The  splendor  with  which  Josephine’s 
rooms  were  furnished  was  no  compensation  to 
her  for  the  absence  of  that  affectionate  familiar- 
ity for  which  her  heart  ever  yearned.  She  also 
suspected,  with  anguish,  that  this  separation 
was  but  the  prelude  of  the  divorce  she  so  fear- 
fully apprehended.  Whenever  Napoleon  passed 
the  night  in  the  apartment  of  Josephine,  it 
was  known  to  the  whole  household.  Josephine, 
at  such  times,  always  appeared  at  a later  hour  in 
the  morning  than  usual,  for  they  generally 
passed  half  the  night  in  conversation. 

“ I think  I see  her  still,”  writes  one  of  the 
ladies  of  her  household,  “ coming  in  to  break- 
fast, looking  quite  cheerful,  rubbing  her  little 
hands,  as  she  wras  accustomed  to  do  when 
peculiarly  happy,  and  apologizing  for  having 
risen  so  late.  On  such  occasions  she  was,  if 
possible,  more  gracious  than  usual,  refused  no- 
body, and  we  were  sure  of  obtaining  every- 


182 


JOSEPHINE. 


thing  we  asked,  as  I have  myself  many  times 
experienced.  ” 

The  Bourbons  had  been  for  some  time  in  cor- 
respondence with  Napoleon,  hoping,  through 
his  agency,  to  regain  the  throne.  He  assured 
them  that  their  restoration  could  not  possibly 
be  accomplished,  even  by  the  sacrifice  of  the 
lives  of  a million  of  Frenchmen.  Josephine, 
who  had  suffered  so  much  from  anarchy,  was  a 
decided  Royalist,  and  she  exerted  all  her  powers 
to  induce  Napoleon  to  make  the  attempt  to 
reinstate  the  Bourbons.  When  her  friends 
congratulated  her  upon  the  probability  that 
she  would  soon  be  Empress  of  France,  with 
heartfelt  sincerity  she  replied,  “To  be  the  wife 
of  the  first  consul  fulfils  my  highest  ambi- 
tion. Let  me  remain  so.”  The  Bourbons  ex- 
pressed much  gratitude  at  the  time  in  view  of 
Josephine's  known  intercessions  in  their  be- 
half. 

About  this  time  a serious  accident  happened 
to  the  first  consul,  which  also  exposed  Jo- 
sephine to  much  danger.  The  inhabitants  of 
Antwerp  had  made  Napoleon  a present  of  six 
magnificent  bay  horses.  With  four  of  these 
spirited  steeds  harnessed  to  the  carriage,  Napo- 
leon was  one  day  taking  an  airing,  with  Jo- 
sephine and  Cambaceres,  the  second  consul,  in 
the  park.  Napoleon,  taking  a fancy  to  drive 
four  in  hand,  mounted  the  coach-box,  and  Cae- 


THE  CORONATION. 


183 


sar,  his  favorite  coachman,  was  stationed  be- 
hind. The  horses  soon  discovered  that  they 
had  a new  and  inexperienced  driver,  and 
started  off  at  the  top  of  their  speed.  Napoleon 
lost  all  control  over  them,  and  the  frightened 
animals,  perfectly  ungovernable,  dashed  along 
the  road  at  a fearful  rate.  Caesar  kept  shout- 
ing to  Napoleon,  “ Keep  in  the  middle  ! ” 
Cambaceres,  pale  with  fright,  thrust  his  head 
out  of  the  window,  and  shouted  “Whoa! 
whoa ! ” Josephine,  greatly  alarmed,  sank 
back  in  her  seat,  and  in  silent  resignation 
awaited  the  issue.  As  they  approached  the 
avenue  to  St.  Cloud,  the  imperial  driver  had 
not  sufficient  skill  to  guide  them  safely  through 
the  gateway.  The  coach  struck  against  one  of 
the  pillars,  and  was  overturned  with  a terrible 
crash.  Josephine  and  Cambaceres  were  consid- 
erably bruised.  Napoleon  was  thrown  from  his 
seat  to  the  distance  of  eight  or  ten  paces,  and 
was  taken  up  insensible.  He,  however,  soon 
recovered.  On  retiring  at  night,  they  amused 
themselves  in  talking  over  the  misadventure. 
“Mon  ami,”  said  Josephine,  laughing,  “you 
must  render  unto  Caesar  the  things  that  be 
Caesar’s.  Let  him  keep  his  whip.  Each  to  his 
vocation.”  The  conversation  was  continued 
for  some  time  in  a tone  of  pleasantry.  Gradu- 
ally Napoleon  became  more  serious.  He 
seemed  to  be  reflecting  deeply,  and  said 


184 


JOSEPHINE. 


that  he  never  before  came  so  near  to  death. 
“ Indeed,”  said  he,  “ I was  for  some  moments 
virtually  dead.  But  what  is  death  ? It  is 
merely  a sleep  without  dreams.” 

Such  were  probably,  at  this  time,  the  views 
of  Napoleon  upon  immortality.  He  subse- 
quently professed  himself  a sincere  believer  in 
the  divine  origin  of  Christianity,  and  wished  to 
die  within  the  pale  of  the  Christian  Church. 
That  mind  which  can  contemplate  death  with 
levity  must  be  either  exceedingly  weak  or 
hopelessly  deranged. 

While  nearly  all  who  surrounded  the  first 
consul  were  contemplating  with  the  utmost  sat- 
isfaction his  approaching  elevation  to  the 
throne,  the  subject  awakened  in  the  bosom  of 
Josephine  the  most  agitating  emotions.  She 
saw  in  the  splendor  of  the  throne  peril  to  her 
husband,  and  the  risk  of  entire  downfall  to  her- 
self. “The  real  enemies  of  Bonaparte,”  said 
she  to  Roederer,  “are  those  who  put  into  his 
head  ideas  of  hereditary  succession,  dynasty, 
divorce,  and  marriage.”  Again  she  is  repre- 
sented as  saying,  “ I do  not  approve  the  pro- 
jects of  Napoleon.  I have  often  told  him  so. 
He  hears  me  with  attention,  but  I can  plainly 
see  that  I make  no  impression.  The  flatterers 
who  surround  him  soon  obliterate  all  that  I 
have  said.  The  new  honors  which  he  will  ac- 
quire will  augment  the  number  of  his  enemies. 


THE  CORONATION. 


185 


The  generals  will  exclaim  that  they  have  not 
fought  so  long  merely  to  substitute  the  family 
of  the  Bonapartes  for  that  of  the  Bourbons/7 
The  peace  ratified  by  the  treaty  of  Amiens 
in  1802  threw  open  the  Continent  to  travelers 
from  England.  There  were  thousands  in  that 
country  who  were  great  admirers  of  Napoleon. 
The  Tuilleries,  St.  Cloud,  and  Malmaison  were 
consequently  ever  thronged  with  illustrious 
strangers  from  the  island  with  which  France 
had  so  long  been  engaged  in  war.  The  cele- 
brated statesman,  Mr.  Fox,  with  Lord  and 
Lady  Holland,  Lord  Erskine,  and  several  others 
of  the  most  distinguished  of  the  English  nobil- 
ity, were  visiting  Paris,  and  one  morning  were 
at  a breakfast  party  at  Madame  Kecamier7s. 
Breakfast  was  nearly  concluded,  when  the 
sounds  of  a horseman  galloping  into  the  court- 
yard were  heard.  Eugene  Beauharnais  was 
immediately  after  announced.  After  a few 
words  of  regret  expressed  to  the  lady  of  the 
house  for  having  arrived  so  late,  he  turned  to 
Mr.  Fox  and  said,  “ I hope,  sir,  soon  to  indem- 
nify myself  for  the  loss  of  your  society  which  I 
have  this  morning  sustained.  I am  commis- 
sioned by  my  mother  to  attend  you  to  Mal- 
maison. The  carriages  will  be  here  in  a few 
moments  which  are  for  the  accommodation  of 
you  and  your  friends,  when  you  can  resolve  on 
leaving  so  many  charms  as  must  detain  you 


186 


JOSEPHINE. 


here.  I shall,  with  much  pleasure,  act  as  your 
guide.” 

The  carriages  of  the  first  consul  soon  arrived, 
and  the  whole  party  proceeded  to  Malmaison. 
Josephine  received  her  guests  with  that  cour- 
tesy and  refined  cordiality  in  which  she  was 
unrivaled.  Bonaparte,  knowing  the  powerful 
influence  of  the  illustrious  English  statesman, 
was  very  desirous  that  he  should  receive  a fa- 
vorable impression  from  his  visit.  It  required 
but  little  effort  on  the  part  of  Josephine  to 
excel  in  the  art  of  pleasing.  She  banished  all 
parade,  and  received  her  guests  as  family 
friends.  The  day  was  spent  at  Malmaison,  and 
Mr.  Fox  afterward  stated  that  he  retired  from 
the  visit  enchanted  with  the  elegance  and  grace 
of  all  that  he  saw  and  heard. 

Ten  years  had  passed,  during  which  France 
had  been  in  a state  of  constant  warfare.  The 
short  peace  which  succeeded  the  treaty  of 
Amiens  filled  Paris  with  the  best  society  of 
Europe.  Extravagance  and  dissipation  reigned 
in  the  metropolis.  But  in  those  scenes  of  dis- 
sipation neither  Napoleon  nor  Josephine  ever 
made  their  appearance.  His  mind  was  ever 
engrossed  with  the  magnificent  plans  he  was 
forming  and  the  deeds  lie  was  achieving.  Jo- 
sephine was  equally  engaged  in  watching  over 
the  interests  of  her  husband,  and  in  gaining 
and  confirming  friends  to  his  cause. 


THE  CORONATION. 


187 


On  the  18th  of  May,  1804,  by  a degree  of  the 
senate,  Napoleon  was  declared  Emperor  of 
France.  The  decree  was  sent  out  to  the  vari- 
ous departments  for  the  action  of  the  people. 
The  result  was,  that  3,572,329  voted  in  the 
affirmative,  while  but  2569  were  in  the  negative. 
A more  unanimous  expression  of  a nation’s  will 
history  never  has  recorded.  The  day  after 
his  elevation  to  the  imperial  throne,  the  em- 
peror held  a grand  levee  at  the  Tuilleries,  and 
Josephine,  with  many  fears  darkening  this  hour 
of  exultation,  made  her  first  appearance  as  the 
Empress  of  France.  The  decree  announcing 
Napoleon  Bonaparte  to  be  the  emperor  of 
France  also  declared  that  the  imperial  dignity 
should  be  hereditary  in  his  family.  The  em- 
press struggled  against  her  fears,  but  her  heart 
was  heavy,  and  she  found  but  little  joy  upon 
this  high  pinnacle  of  power.  She  also  plainly 
foresaw  that  the  throne  of  her  husband,  appar- 
ently so  gorgeous  and  massive,  was  erected 
upon  a very  frail  foundation. 

At  the  grand  levee  held  upon  this  occasion, 
the  assembly  was  the  most  brilliant  and  numer- 
ous that  had  ever  yet  been  witnessed  in  Paris. 
The  renown  of  Napoleon  now  filled  the  world, 
and  noted  men  from  every  land  thronged  his 
saloons.  Josephine  found  herself  elevated  to 
the  position  of  the  most  illustrious  of  the  queens 
of  Europe.  The  power  of  her  husband  was 


188 


JOSEPHINE. 


superior  to  that  of  any  of  the  surrounding  mon- 
archs,  and  she  received  the  homage  of  all  as 
occupying  an  elevation  such  as  no  queen  had 
ever  attained  before. 

The  second  of  December,  1804,  was  ap- 
pointed for  the  ceremony  of  coronation.  The 
pageant  was  to  take  place  in  the  church  of 
Notre  Dame.  The  Pope  came  from  Rome  to 
place  the  crown  upon  this  lofty,  though  ple- 
beian brow.  For  ten  centuries  such  an  honor 
had  not  been  conferred  upon  any  monarch. 
The  day  was  clear  and  brilliant,  but  intensely 
cold.  The  venerable  walls  of  Notre  Dame  had 
never  before  witnessed  such  luxury  and  such 
magnificence  as  was  now  displayed.  Car- 
riages glittering  with  gold  and  purple  trap- 
pings ; horses  proudly  caparisoned  ; officers  in 
the  richest  uniforms,  and  in  court  dresses 
sumptuously  embroidered  ; servants  in  most 
gorgeous  liveries  ; and  a waving  sea  of  ostrich 
plumes,  bewildered  the  multitude  with  the  un- 
wonted splendor. 

The  empress  appeared  in  a robe  of  white 
satin,  embroidered  with  gold,  and  profusely 
ornamented  with  diamonds.  A mantle  of 
crimson  velvet,  lined  with  white  satin  and 
ermine,  floated  over  her  shoulders,  and  golden 
bees  were  clustered  ovfer  the  dress.  The  cor- 
onation jewels  consisted  of  a crown,  a diadem, 
and  a girdle.  The  coronation  crown  consisted 


THE  CORONATION. 


189 


of  eight  golden  branches,  four  in  imitation  of 
palm,  and  four  of  myrtle  leaves.  The  dew- 
drops  glittering  upon  this  foliage  were  brilliant 
diamonds.  A golden-corded  band  surrounded 
the  crown,  embellished  with  eight  very  large 
emeralds.  The  bandeau  inclosing  the  head 
glittered  resplendent  with  amethysts.  This 
was  the  coronation  crown,  which  was  used  only 
upon  state  occasions.  The  diadem,  which  was 
for  more  ordinary  service,  was  composed  of  four 
rows  of  pearls  interlaced  with  diamonds.  In 
front  were  several  very  large  brilliants,  one  of 
which  weighed  ume  hundred  and  forty-nine 
grains.  The  ceinture  or  girdle  was  of  pure 
gold,  so  pure  as  to  be  quite  elastic,  embellished 
with  thirty-nine  rose-colored  diamonds. 

Napoleon  wore  a close  dress  of  white  velvet, 
embroidered  in  gold,  with  diamond  buttons. 
His  stockings  were  of  white  silk.  The  robe 
and  mantle  were  of  crimson  velvet,  richly  em- 
broidered in  gold  and  embellished  with  dia- 
monds. Napoleon  seemed  to  regret  the  vast 
expense  attending  this  display,  while  at  the 
same  time  he  was  conscious  of  its  importance 
to  impress  the  minds  of  the  Parisians.  The 
emperor  was  profuse  in  expenditure  to  promote 
the  grandeur  and  glory  of  the  nation,  but  very 
frugal  in  his  personal  expenses. 

The  imperial  carriage,  constructed  expressly 
for  the  occasion,  was  the  most  exquisite  piece 


190 


JOSEPHINE. 


of  workmanship  Parisian  ingenuity  could  de- 
vise. It  was  drawn  by  eight  hay  horses.  The 
paneling  was  entirely  of  glass.  As  the  em- 
peror and  empress  entered  the  carriage,  they 
both,  by  mistake,  sat  down  with  their  backs 
toward  the  horses.  Josephine,  immediately 
perceiving  the  error,  lightly  changed  her  seat, 
at  the  same  time  saying  smilingly  to  her  hus- 
band, as  she  pointed  to  the  rich  cushion  at  her 
side,  “ Mon  ami  ! unless  you  prefer  riding  vis- 
a-vis,  this  is  your  seat.”  Napoleon  laughed 
heartily  at  the  blunder,  and  changed  his  seat. 
Double  files  of  infantry  lined  the  route  of  more 
than  a mile  and  a half,  extending  from  the 
Tuilleries  to  Notre  Dame.  Ten  thousand 
horsemen,  in  most  gorgeous  uniforms,  attended 
the  carriages.  Half  a million  of  spectators 
thronged  the  way,  crowding  the  windows  and 
balconies,  clustered  upon  the  house-tops,  and 
filling  up  every  space  from  whence  any  view  of 
the  cortege  could  be  gained.  The  air  was  filled 
with  the  martial  strains  of  a thousand  bands, 
with  the  thunders  of  innumerable  pieces  of 
artillery,  and  with  the  enthusiastic  acclama- 
tions of  the  vast  multitude.  A pageant  more 
sublime  this  world  perhaps  has  never  wit- 
nessed. 

The  throne,  which  was  hung  with  crimson 
velvet,  was  overarched  with  a canopy  of  the 
same  rich  material.  It  was  ascended  by  twenty- 


Page  I90.  THJ5  CORONATION. 


THE  CORONATION. 


191 


two  circular  steps,  which  were  covered  with 
blue  cloth,  studded  with  golden  bees.  The 
most  illustrious  officers  of  the  empire  crowded 
the  stairs.  Napoleon  and  Josephine  sat,  side 
by  side,  upon  the  throne.  The  religious  cere- 
mony occupied  nearly  four  hours.  It  was  in- 
terspersed with  the  most  soul-stirring  music 
from  martial  bands  and  from  more  than  three 
hundred  vocal  performers.  When  the  Pope  was 
about  to  place  the  crown  upon  the  brow  of  the 
emperor,  Napoleon  took  it  from  him,  and 
placed  it,  with  his  own  hands,  upon  his  head. 
He  then  took  it  off  and  crowned  the  empress, 
also  with  his  own  hands,  fixing  his  eye 
proudly,  yet  most  tenderly,  upon  her.  The 
heavy  crown  was  soon  after  laid  upon  a 
cushion,  while  a smaller  diadem  was  placed 
upon  the  head  of  Josephine.  She  kneeled  be- 
fore her  illustrious  consort  as  he  placed  the 
crown  of  Prance  upon  her  brow.  After  re- 
maining for  a moment  in  silence  in  the  pos- 
ture of  prayer,  with  her  hands  folded  over  her 
bosom,  she  then  gracefully  rose,  her  eyes 
swimming  in  tears,  and  turned  to  her  husband 
with  a look  of  gratitude  and  of  love  which  the 
emperor  feelingly  recognized.  It  was  a touch- 
ing scene,  and  in  that  moment  were  clustered 
the  memories  of  years. 

But  the  day  was  not  without  its  moments  of 
anguish  for  Josephine.  In  the  brief  speech 


192 


JOSEPHINE. 


which  the  emperor  made  upon  the  occasion,  he 
said,  “ My  descendants  will  long  sit  upon  this 
throne”  These  words  were  as  a dagger  to  the 
heart  of  the  empress.  She  knew  Napoleon’s 
intense  desire  for  an  heir.  She  knew  how 
strong  the  desire  in  France  was  that  he  should 
have  a son  to  whom  to  transmit  his  throne. 
She  knew  how  much  had  been  said  respecting 
the  necessity  of  a divorce.  The  most  infamous 
proposals  had  been  urged  upon  her  by  pre- 
tended friends,  even  by  one  of  the  brothers  of 
Napoleon,  that  she  might  by  unfaithfulness  to 
him,  obviate  the  necessity  of  Napoleon’s  seek- 
ing another  bride.  This  sentiment,  uttered 
upon  the  day  of  coronation,  filled  her  heart 
with  fear  and  anguish. 

The  shades  of  evening  had  fallen  upon  the 
swarming  city,  and  all  the  streets  of  the  me- 
tropolis and  the  broad  fagade  of  the  Tuilleries 
were  glittering  with  illuminations  when  the 
emperor  and  empress  returned  to  the  palace. 
Josephine,  overcome  with  the  conflicting  emo- 
tions which  the  day  had  excited,  retired  to 
her  apartment,  and,  falling  upon  her  knees, 
with  tears  implored  the  guidance  of  the  King 
of  kings.  Napoleon  hastened  to  his  room,  ex- 
claiming impatiently  to  an  attendant  as  he  en- 
tered, “ Off,  off  with  these  confounded  trap- 
pings ! ” He  threw  the  mantle  into  one  corner 
of  the  room,  and  the  gorgeous  robe  into  an- 


THE  CORONATION. 


193 


other,  and,  thus  violently  disencumbering  him- 
self, declared  that  hours  of  such  mortal  tedi- 
ousness he  had  never  encountered  before. 

Josephine,  in  her  remonstrances  with  Napo- 
leon against  assuming  the  crown,  predicted, 
with  almost  prophetic  accuracy,  the  conse- 
quences which  would  ensue.  “ Will  not  your 
power,”  she  wrote  to  him,  “opposed,  as  to  a 
certainty  it  must  be,  by  the  neighboring  states, 
draw  you  into  a war  with  them  ? This  will 
probably  end  in  their  ruin.  Will  not  their 
neighbors,  beholding  these  effects,  combine  for 
your  destruction  ? While  abroad  such  is  the 
state  of  things,  at  home  how  numerous  the  en- 
vious and  discontented  ! How  many  plots  to  dis- 
concert, and  how  many  conspiracies  to  punish.” 

Soon  after  the  coronation,  Josephine  was  one 
morning  in  her  garden,  when  an  intimate  friend 
called  to  see  her.  She  saluted  the  empress  by 
the  title  of  Your  Majesty.  “Ah!”  she  ex- 
claimed, in  tones  deeply  pathetic,  “ I entreat 
that  you  will  suffer  me,  at  least  here,  to  forget 
that  I am  an  empress.”  It  is  the  unvarying 
testimony  of  her  friends,  that,  while  she  was 
receiving  with  surpassing  gracefulness  the  con- 
gratulations of  France  and  of  Europe,  her  heart 
was  heavy.  She  clearly  foresaw  the  peril  of 
their  position,  and  trembled  in  view  of  an  ap- 
proaching downfall.  The  many  formal  cere- 
monies which  her  station  required,  and  upon 


194 


JOSEPHINE. 


which  Napoleon  laid  great  stress,  were  exceed- 
ingly irksome  to  one  whose  warm  heart  rejoiced 
in  the  familiarity  of  unrestrained  friendship. 
She  thus  described  her  feelings  : “ The  nearer 
my  husband  approached  the  summit  of  earthly 
greatness,  the  more  dim  became  my  last  gleams 
of  happiness.  It  is  true  that  I enjoyed  a mag- 
nificent existence.  My  court  was  composed  of 
gentlemen  and  ladies  the  most  illustrious  in 
rank,  all  of  whom  were  emulous  of  the  honor 
of  being  presented  to  me.  But  my  time  was 
no  longer  at  my  command.  The  emperor  was 
receiving  from  every  part  of  France  congratula- 
tions upon  his  accession  to  the  throne,  while  I 
myself  sighed  in  contemplating  the  immense 
power  he  had  acquired.  The  more  I saw  him 
loaded  with  the  gifts  of  fortune,  the  more  I 
feared  his  fall." 

The  court  of  France  had  for  ages  been  the 
scene  of  the  most  voluptuous  and  unblushing 
vice.  The  whole  nation  had  been  corrupted  by 
its  influence.  Dissipation  had  been  rendered 
attractive  by  the  grace  with  which  it  had  been 
robed.  The  dissolute  manners  which  had  pre- 
vailed at  Versailles,  The  Tuilleries,  and  St. 
Cloud  no  pen  can  describe.  Napoleon  deter- 
mined that,  at  all  hazards,  his  court  should  be 
reputable  at  least  in  outward  morality.  He 
was  more  scrupulous  upon  this  point  even  than 
Josephine  herself.  Believing  that  the  downfall 


THE  CORONATION. 


195 


of  the  Bourbons  was  caused,  in  no  inconsider- 
able degree,  by  the  dissolute  lives  of  the  nobles 
and  the  courtiers,  he  would  give  no  one  an  ap- 
pointment among  the  royal  retinue  whose  char- 
acter was  not,  in  his  judgment,  above  reproach. 

The  Duchess  d’Aiguillon  had  been  a fellow- 
captive  of  Josephine,  and,  after  their  liberation 
from  prison,  had  greatly  befriended  her.  Dur- 
ing the  license  of  those  times,  in  which  all  the 
restraints  of  Christian  morality  had  been  swept 
away,  her  character  had  not  remained  perfectly 
spotless.  She  and  her  husband  had  availed 
themselves  of  the  facile  liberty  of  divorce  which 
the  laws  had  encouraged,  and  had  formed  other 
unions.  Josephine  felt  grateful  for  the  many 
favors  she  had  received  from  the  duchess,  and 
wished  to  testify  this  gratitude  by  receiving  her 
at  court.  Napoleon  peremptorily  refused.  Jo- 
sephine wrote  to  her  in  the  following  terms  : 

“ My  dear  Friend, — I am  deeply  afflicted. 
My  former  friends,  supposing  that  I am  able  to 
obtain  the  fulfilment  of  all  my  wishes,  must 
suppose  that  I have  forgotten  the  past.  Alas  ! 
it  is  not  so.  I remember  it  too  well,  and  my 
thoughts  dwell  upon  it  more  than  I would  have 
them.  The  more  I think  of  what  my  friends 
did  for  me,  the  greater  is  my  sorrow  at  being 
unable  to  do  now  what  my  heart  dictates.  The 
Empress  of  France  is  but  the  first  slave  in  the 
empire,  and  cannot  pay  the  debts  of  Madame 


196 


JOSEPHINE. 


de  Beauharnais.  This  constitutes  the  torture 
of  my  life,  and  will  explain  why  you  do  not  oc- 
cupy a place  near  me.  The  emperor,  indignant 
at  the  total  disregard  of  morality,  and  alarmed 
at  the  progress  it  might  still  make,  is  resolved 
that  the  example  of  a life  of  regularity  and  of 
religion  shall  be  presented  in  the  palace  where 
he  reigns.  Desirous  of  strengthening  more  and 
more  the  Church  re-established  by  himself,  and 
unable  to  change  the  laws  appointed  by  her  ob- 
servances, his  intention  is,  at  least,  to  keep  at 
a distance  from  his  court  all  wlio  may  have 
availed  themselves  of  the  opportunity  for  a di- 
vorce. Hence  the  cause  of  his  refusing  the 
favor  I asked  of  having  you  with  me.  The 
refusal  has  occasioned  me  unspeakable  regret, 
but  he  is  too  absolute  to  leave  even  the  hope  of 
seeing  him  retract.  I am  thus  constrained  to 
renounce  the  pleasure  I had  promised  myself 
of  being  constantly  with  you,  studying  to  make 
you  forget  the  sovereign  in  the  friend.  Pity 
my  lot  in  being  too  public  a personage  to  follow 
my  own  inclination,  and  cherish  for  me  a friend- 
ship, the  remembrance  of  which  gives  me  now 
so  much  pleasure  as  its  reality  afforded  conso- 
lation in  prison.  Often  do  I regret  that  small, 
dark,  and  dismal  chamber  which  we  shared  to- 
gether, for  there,  at  least,  I could  pour  out  my 
whole  heart,  and  was  sincerely  beloved  in  re- 
turn.” 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


197 


CHAPTER  XL 

JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 

During  the  whole  month  succeeding  the 
coronation,  Paris  was  surrendered  to  fetes, 
illuminations,  and  all  manner  of  public  rejoic- 
ing. One  morning  the  empress  found  in  her 
apartment,  as  a present  from  the  municipality 
of  the  capital,  a toilet  service,  with  table,  ewer, 
and  basin  of  massive  gold,  wrought  with  most 
exquisite  workmanship.  An  enormous  balloon, 
in  the  form  of  the  imperial  crown,  brilliantly 
illuminated  was  launched,  the  evening  of  the 
coronation,  from  Paris.  The  vast  structure, 
weighing  five  hundred  pounds,  floated  most 
majestically  over  the  city,  for  a time  the  object 
of  the  gaze  of  a million  of  eyes,  till,  borne  away 
by  the  wind  toward  the  south,  it  disappeared. 
The  next  evening  it  fell  near  the  city  of  Rome, 
nine  hundred  miles  from  Paris.  “ Sire,”  said 
a courtier,  announcing  the  fact  to  Napoleon, 
“ your  imperial  crown  has  appeared  in  the  two 
great  capitals  of  the  world  within  the  space  of 
twenty-four  hours.” 


198 


JOSEPHINE. 


As  soon  as  Napoleon  was  crowned  Emperor 
of  France,  the  senators  of  the  Italian  Republic, 
over  which  he  had  been  elected  president,  sent 
an  earnest  petition  that  he  would  be  crowned 
their  king  at  Milan.  Napoleon  had  rescued 
them  from  the  hated  dominion  of  the  Austrians, 
and  they  regarded  him  as  their  greatest  bene- 
factor. The  emperor  was  in  the  habit  of  set- 
ting out  on  his  various  tours  without  any  warn- 
ing. One  evening,  when  the  festivities  of  the 
baptism  of  the  second  son  of  Hortense  had  been 
kept  up  until  midnight,  Napoleon  said  quietly, 
upon  retiring,  “Horses  at  six  for  Italy.”  Jo- 
sephine accompanied  her  husband  upon  this 
tour.  The  road  bridging  the  Alps,  which  Napo- 
leon subsequently  constructed,  was  then  but 
contemplated.  It  was  only  by  a rugged  and  dan- 
gerous footpath  that  the  ascent  of  these  awful 
barriers  of  nature  could  be  surmounted.  Two 
beautiful  sedans  had  been  constructed  in  Turin 
for  the  emperor  and  empress.  The  one  for  Na- 
poleon was  lined  with  crimson  silk,  richly  orna- 
mented with  gold.  Josephine's  was  trimmed 
with  blue  satin,  similarly  ornamented  with  sil- 
ver. The  sedans  were,  however,  but  little  used, 
except  in  places  where  walking  was  dangerous, 
as  the  empress  very  much  preferred  leaning 
upon  the  arm  of  her  husband,  and,  in  conver- 
sation with  him,  gazing  upon  the  wild  sublimi- 
ties with  which  they  were  surrounded.  This 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


199 


must  have  been  to  Josephine,  independently 
of  those  inward  anxieties  which  weighed  so 
heavily  upon  her  heart,  as  delightful  a journey 
as  a mortal  can  enjoy.  All  Europe  was  bowing 
in  homage  before  her  illustrious  husband.  He 
was  in  the  possession  of  power  such  as  the 
proudest  of  the  Caesars  might  have  envied. 
Illuminations,  and  triumphal  arches,  and  en- 
thusiastic acclamations  met  them  every  step  of 
their  way.  Josephine  was  in  the  possession  of 
every  possible  acquisition  earth  could  give  to 
make  her  happy,  save  only  one — her  husband 
was  not  a father.  But  Josephine  forgot  her  so- 
licitudes in  the  exultant  hours  when  her  hus- 
band, from  the  pinnacles  of  the  Alps,  pointed 
out  to  her  the  glories  of  sunny  Italy — the  scenes 
of  past  perils,  and  conflict,  and  renown — the 
fields  in  which  he  had  led  the  armies  of  France 
to  the  most  brilliant  victories.  Napoleon  was 
in  fine  spirits,  and  in  these  gilded  hours  he 
looked  lovingly  upon  her,  and  they  both  were 
truly  happy.  It  is  difficult  for  the  imagination 
to  conceive  anything  more  attractive  for  a 
warm-hearted  and  an  enthusiastic  woman  than 
to  pass  over  these  most  sublime  of  the  barriers 
of  nature,  with  Napoleon  for  a guide  and  a con- 
fiding friend.  Pope  Pius  VII.,  who  had  formed 
a very  strong  friendship  for  Josephine,  accom- 
panied them  as  far  as  Turin.  When  parting, 
the  empress  made  him  a present  of  a beautiful 


200 


JOSEPHINE. 


vase  of  Sevres  china,  embellished  with  exquisite 
paintings  of  the  coronation. 

From  Turin  Napoleon  took  Josephine  to  the 
field  of  Marengo.  He  had  assembled  upon  that 
great  battle  plain,  which  his  victory  has  immor- 
talized, thirty  thousand  troops,  that  Josephine 
might  behold,  in  the  mimicry  of  war,  the  dread- 
ful scenes  which  had  deluged  those  fields  in 
blood.  It  was  the  fifth  of  May,  and  a bright 
Italian  sun  shone  down  upon  the  magnificent 
pageant.  A vast  elevation  was  constructed  in 
the  middle  of  the  plain,  from  which,  seated 
upon  a lofty  throne,  the  emperor  and  empress 
overlooked  the  whole  field.  Napoleon  deco- 
rated himself  upon  the  occasion  with  the  same 
war-worn  garments — the  battered  hat,  the  tem- 
pest-torn cloak,  the  coat  of  faded  blue,  and  the 
long  cavalry  saber  which  he  had  worn  amid 
the  carnage  and  the  terror  of  that  awful  day. 
Many  of  the  veterans  who  had  been  engaged 
in  the  action  were  present.  Napoleon  and 
Josephine  came  upon  the  ground  in  a magnifi- 
cent chariot,  drawn  by  eight  horses.  The  mo- 
ment he  appeared  upon  the  plain,  one  general 
shout  of  acclamation  from  thirty  thousand 
adoring  voices  rent  the  sky.  After  the  mimic 
battle  was  ended,  the  soldiers  defiled  before 
the  emperor  and  empress,  while  he  conferred, 
upon  those  who  had  signalized  themselves  in 
the  day  of  Marengo,  the  decorations  of  the 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


201 


Legion  of  Honor.  The  gorgeous  uniform  of 
the  men,  the  rich  caparisons  and  proud  bear- 
ing of  the  horses,  the  clangor  of  innumerable 
trumpets  and  martial  bands,  the  glitter  of  gold 
and  steel,  the  deafening  thunders  of  artillery 
and  musketry,  filling  the  air  with  one  incessant 
and  terrifio  war  ; the  dense  volumes  of  sul- 
phurous smoke  rolling  heavily  over  the  plain, 
shutting  out  the  rays  of  an  unclouded  sun,  all 
combined  to  produce  an  effect  upon  the  spec- 
tators never  to  be  effaced. 

On  the  eighth  of  May,  1805,  they  made  their 
triumphal  entry  into  the  city  of  Milan.  While 
the  whole  city  was  absorbed  in  those  fetes  and 
rejoicings  which  preceded  the  coronation,  the 
inexhaustible  mind  of  Napoleon  was  occupied 
in  planning  those  splendid  public  buildings  and 
those  magnificent  improvements  which  still 
commemorate  the  almost  superhuman  energy 
of  his  reign.  The  iron  crown  of  Charlemagne, 
which  for  a thousand  years  had  pressed  no 
brow,  was  brought  forth  from  its  mausoleum 
to  add  the  attraction  of  deep  poetic  sentiment 
to  the  coronation.  The  ceremony  took  place 
on  the  twenty-sixth  of  May,  in  the  Cathedral 
of  Milan.  The  coronation  was  conducted  with 
magnificence  not  even  surpassed  by  the  cere- 
mony in  Notre  Dame.  The  empress  first  made 
her  appearance,  most  gorgeously  dressed,  and 
glittering  with  diamonds.  She  was  personally 


202 


JOSEPHINE. 


loved  by  the  Milanese,  and  was  greeted  with 
the  most  enthusiastic  acclamations.  A mo- 
ment after,  the"  emperor  himself  entered,  by 
another  door.  He  was  arrayed  in  imperial 
robes  of  velvet,  purple,  and  gold,  with  the  dia- 
dem upon  his  brow,  and  the  iron  crown  and 
scepter  of  Charlemagne  in  his  hands.  Napo- 
leon, as  in  the  coronation  at  Paris,  refused  to 
receive  the  crown  from  the  hands  of  another, 
but  placed  it  himself  upon  his  head,  repeating 
aloud  the  historical  words,  “ God  has  given  it 
tome;  woe  to  him  who  touches  it.  ” Josephine 
then  knelt  upon  an  altar  at  his  feet,  and  was 
again  crowned  by  her  husband. 

Josephine  remained  with  the  emperor  in  Mi- 
lan for  nearly  a month.  He  was  busy  night 
and  day  in  commencing  improvements  of  the 
most  majestic  character.  The  Italians  still  look 
back  to  the  reign  of  Napoleon  as  the  brightest 
period  in  their  history.  The  gay  Milanese 
surrendered  themselves,  during  his  stay,  to 
one  continual  scene  of  festivity.  One  day  Jo- 
sephine and  Napoleon  had  broken  away  from 
courtiers  and  palaces,  and  all  the  pageantry  of 
state,  and  had  retreated  for  a few  hours  to  the 
retirement  and  solitude  of  a beautiful  little 
island  in  one  of  the  lakes  in  that  vicinity.  They 
entered  the  cabin  of  a poor  woman.  She  had 
no  idea  of  the  illustrious  character  of  her  guests, 
and,  in  answer  to  their  kind  inquiries,  opened 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


203 


to  them  the  story  of  her  penury,  her  toils,  and 
her  anxiety  to  bring  up  her  three  children,  as 
the  father  often  could  obtain  no  work.  “ Now 
how  much  money,  my  good  woman,"  inquired 
Napoleon,  “ would  you  like  to  have  to  make 
you  perfectly  happy  ? " “ Ah  ! sir,"  she  re- 

plied, “ a great  deal  of  money  I should  want." 
“ But  how  much  should  you  desire  if  you  could 
have  your  wish."  “ Oh,  sir,  I should  want  as 
much  as  twenty  louis  (about  eighty  dollars) ; 
but  what  prospect  is  there  of  our  ever  having 
twenty  louis  ? " The  emperor  poured  into  her 
lap  three  thousand  francs  (about  six  hundred 
dollars)  in  glittering  gold.  Fora  few  moments 
she  was  speechless  in  bewilderment ; at  length, 
trembling  with  emotion,  she  said,  “ Ah  ! sir — 
ah  ! madam,  this  is  a great  deal  too  much. 
And  yet  you  do  not  look  as  if  you  could  sport 
with  the  feelings  of  a poor  woman."  i{  No  !" 
Josephine  replied,  in  the  most  gentle  accents. 
“ The  money  is  all  yours.  With  it  you  can  now 
rent  a piece  of  ground,  purchase  a flock  of  goats, 
and  I hope  you  will  be  able  to  bring  up  your 
children  comfortably." 

From  Milan  the  emperor  and  empress  con- 
tinued their  tour  to  Genoa.  The  restless  mind 
of  Napoleon  was  weary  even  of  the  swiftest 
speed  of  the  horses,  and  though  they  drove  from 
post  to  post  with  the  utmost  possible  rapidity, 
so  that  it  was  necessary  continually  to  throw 


204 


JOSEPHINE. 


water  upon  the  glowing  axle,  he  kept  calling 
from  his  carriage,  “On  ! on  ! we  do  not  go  fast 
enough.”  Their  reception  at  Genoa  was  un- 
equaled by  anything  they  had  before  witnessed. 
In  the  beautiful  bay  a floating  garden  of  orange- 
trees  and  rare  plants  and  shrubbery  was  con- 
structed in  honor  of  Josephine.  In  the  princi- 
pal church  of  “ Genoa  the  Superb,”  the  em- 
peror and  empress  received  the  allegiance  of 
the  most  prominent  inhabitants.  The  fetes  on 
this  occasion  almost  surpassed  the  creations  of 
fancy.  The  senses  were  bewildered  by  the 
fairy  illusions  thrown  around  the  gorgeous 
spectacle.  The  city  with  all  its  picturesque 
beauty  of  embattled  forts  and  craggy  shores — 
the  serenity  and  brilliance  of  Italian  skies  in 
May — the  blue  expanse  of  the  Mediterranean — 
the  marble  palaces  and  the  glittering  domes 
which  embellished  the  streets — the  lovely  bay 
whitened  with  sails — all  combined  to  invest  the 
gorgeous  spectacle  with  attractions  such  as  are 
rarely  witnessed.  From  Genoa' they  proceeded 
to  Paris,  everywhere  accompanied  by  the  thun- 
der of  artillery  and  the  blaze  of  illuminations. 

Josephine  Avas  not  unfrequently  under  the 
necessity  of  taking  journeys  unaccompanied  by 
the  emperor.  On  such  occasions  the  tireless 
mind  of  Napoleon  arranged  every  particular 
with  the  utmost  precision.  A manuscript  was 
placed  in  her  hand,  describing  the  route  she 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


205 


was  to  take,  the  places  at  which  she  was  to 
stop,  the  addresses  or  replies  she  was  to  make 
to  public  functionaries,  the  expenses  she  was  to 
incur,  and  even  the  presents  she  was  to  make. 
On  such  excursions,  Josephine  every  morning 
most  carefully  studied  her  lesson  for  the  day. 
She  took  great  pleasure  in  obeying  h}s  direc- 
tions exactly,  exposing  herself  to  great  incon- 
veniences rather  than  to  allow  herself  to  devi- 
ate in  the  slightest  particular  from  the  written 
directions.  She  was  ever  unwilling  to  listen  to 
any  suggestions  for  change.  A very  interesting 
illustration  of  her  scrupulous  adherence  to 
manuscript  instructions  occurred  in  her  jour- 
ney to  Liege. 

Napoleon,  in  the  directions  given  to  Jose- 
phine, had  marked  out  her  route  by  a road 
through  the  forest  of  Ardennes.  Napoleon 
had  ordered  that  road  to  be  constructed,  and 
supposed  that  it  was  completed.  It  was,  how- 
ever, only  partially  made,  and  it  was  considered 
quite  unsafe  to  attempt  to  pass  over  it  with  car- 
riages. She  inquired  if  it  were  possible  to  pass. 
Being  told  that  it  was  possible , perhaps,  but 
that  the  attempt  would  be  attended  with  great 
difficulty  and  danger,  she  replied,  “ Very  well, 
then  ; we  will  at  least  try.”  Some  of  the  ladies 
accompanying  her  entreated  her  to  take  another 
route,  “ No,”  she  replied  ; “ Napoleon  has  re- 
quested me  to  take  this  road,  and  his  wishes 


206 


JOSEPHINE. 


are  my  law/'  Josephine  persevered  in  the  at- 
tempt, and  accomplished  the  passage  through, 
though  with  very  great  difficulty.  In  many 
places  the  workmen  on  the  road  had  to  support 
the  carriages  with  ropes  and  poles  to  prevent 
an  overturn.  It  rained  during  much  of  the  jour- 
ney. Josephine  and  her  ladies  were  often  com- 
pelled to  alight,  and  to  walk  for  some  distance 
nearly  ankle  deep  in  mud  and  water.  Jose- 
phine endured  all  with  the  utmost  good  nature. 
She  was  cheered  by  the  assurance  that  she  was 
following  the  wishes  of  her  husband.  Many  of 
her  attendants,  however,  were  excessively  an- 
noyed by  the  hardships  they  encountered.  The 
carriage  of  the  first  femme-de-chambre  was 
actually  overturned,  and  the  irritated  serving- 
woman  could  not  restrain  her  expressions  of 
impatience  and  displeasure.  At  last  one  of  the 
distinguished  ladies  of  the  court  took  it  upon 
herself  to  lecture  the  empress  so  roundly  for 
her  blind  subservience  to  the  directions  of 
Napoleon,  that  Josephine  burst  into  tears. 

Josephine,  by  conversation,  observation,  and 
reading,  was  continually  storing  her  mind  with 
valuable  information.  In  the  various  journeys 
she  took,  she  was  always  accompanied  by  per- 
sons of  intelligence,  and  who  were  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  country.  While  traveling, 
she  directed  her  conversation  almost  exclusively 
upon  the  scenes  through  which  they  were  pass- 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


207 


ing.  Everything  of  interest  was  carefully  treas- 
ured up  in  her  memory,  and  if  she  learned  any 
incident  connected  with  the  past  fortunes  of 
any  of  the  families  of  the  ladies  who  were  with 
her,  she  never  failed  to  send  a special  messenger 
with  the  information,  and  to  point  out  the 
places  where  such  incidents  occurred.  She 
seemed  thus  to  be  continually  studying  for  op- 
portunities of  manifesting  kind  and  delicate 
attentions  to  the  ladies  of  her  household.  She 
thus  secured  a universality  and  a fervor  of  af- 
fection such  as  has  rarely  been  attained.  On 
these  pleasure  excursions,  the  restraints  of  the 
court  were  laid  aside,  and  there  were  all  the 
joyous  commingling  and  affectionate  familiari- 
ty which  prevail  among  intimate  friends. 

Napoleon,  aware  of  the  vast  influence  which 
the  pomp  of  regal  state  exerts  upon  the  human 
mind,  was  very  particular  in  his  court  in  the 
observance  of  all  the  etiquette  of  royalty.  Jo- 
sephine, however,  was  always  disposed  to  es- 
cape from  the  exactions  of  the  code  ceremonial 
whenever  she  could  do  so  with  propriety.  A 
curious  instance  of  this  occurred  at  Aix  la 
Chapelle,  where  the  empress  was  passing  a few 
days  for  the  benefit  of  the  baths.  One  evening 
she  was  sitting,  with  her  ladies  around  her, 
weary  of  the  lassitude  of  a fashionable  water- 
ing-place, when  some  one  suggested  that,  to 
while  away  an  hour,  they  should  visit  a cele- 


208 


JOSEPHINE. 


brated  model  of  Paris,  which  was  then  on  ex- 
hibition. The  chevalier  of  honor  was  about  to 
order  the  imperial  carriages  and  the  cortege, 
when  Josephine,  to  his  utter  consternation, 
proposed  that  they  should  go  on  foot.  She 
was  sure,  she  said,  that  the  citizens  of  Aix  la 
Chapelle  were  so  kindly  disposed  toward  her, 
that  there  could  be  no  possible  danger.  The 
chevalier,  as  far  as  he  dared  to  do,  urged  his 
remonstrances  against  such  a breach  of  imperial 
decorum  ; but  the  ladies  of  the  court  were  all 
delighted  with  the  plan  of  Josephine,  and  they 
set  out  on  foot,  a brilliant  party  of  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  to  visit  the  exhibition.  As  the  citi- 
zens, of  course,  knew  nothing  about  this  unex- 
pected movement,  there  was  no  crowd  in  the 
streets  to  impede  their  way,  and  they  proceeded 
without  any  difficulty,  and  very  pleasantly,  to 
the  place  of  their  destination.  But  the  intel- 
ligence of  the  adventure  of  the  court,  so  novel 
and  so  unprecedented,  was  immediately  noised 
throughout  the  town.  From  every  section  of 
the  city,  throngs,  allured  by  curiosity  and  love 
for  Josephine,  began  to  pour  into  the  streets 
through  which  they  were  to  pass  to  see  them 
return.  The  citizens  occupying  the  dwellings 
and  the  shops  which  lined  the  streets,  instant- 
ly, and  as  if  by  magic,  illuminated  their  win- 
dows. A thousand  hands  were  busy  in  the 
eager  and  love-incited  toil.  The  party  spent  an 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


209 


hour  examining  the  beautiful  model  of  the  me- 
tropolis, and  then  emerged  again  into  the  street. 
To  their  surprise,  and  not  a little  to  their  con- 
sternation, they  found  their  path  blazing  with 
illuminations.  Their  whole  route  was  filled 
with  a dense  throng  of  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren, all  eager  to  catch  a glimpse  of  their  be- 
loved empress,  and  of  the  brilliant  suite  which 
accompanied  her. 

The  ladies  recoiled  from  attempting  the  pas- 
sage on  foot  through  such  a crowd,  and  pro- 
posed sending  for  the  carriage  and  escort. 
Josephine,  apprehensive  that  some  accident 
might  occur  in  attempting  to  drive  the  horses 
through  such  a dense  mass  of  people,  would  not 
listen  to  the  suggestion.  “Were  any  one  to 
be  injured,"  she  said,  “ of  these  friends  whom 
our  imprudence  has  assembled,  I never  could 
forgive  myself."  Taking  the  arm  of  the  chev- 
alier, she  led  the  way  through  the  crowd.  The 
ladies  all  followed,  each  supported  by  the  arm 
of  some  nobleman  of  the  court.  The  populace 
respectfully  opened  before  them,  and  closed  up 
behind.  The  plumes,  and  diamonds,  and  gay 
attire  of  the  court  shone  brilliantly  in  the  blaze 
of  light  which  was  shed  upon  them  from  the  il- 
luminated windows.  The  enthusiastic  accla- 
mations of  the  populace  greeted  the  empress 
until  she  arrived,  in  perfect  safety,  at  her  resi- 
dence. As  soon  as  she  entered  her  saloon,  with 
14 


210 


JOSEPHINE. 


her  accustomed  frankness  she  thanked  the 
chevalier  for  the  advice  which  he  had  given, 
and  confessed  that,  in  not  following  it,  she  had 
been  guilty  of  imprudence,  which  might  have 
been  attended  by  very  serious  consequences. 

When  traveling  unaccompanied  by  the  em- 
peror, she  was  fond  of  breakfasting  in  the  open 
air,  upon  some  green  lawn,  beneath  the  shade 
of  venerable  trees,  or  upon  some  eminence, 
where  her  eye  could  feast  upon  the  sublimities 
of  Nature,  which  are  so  attractive  to  every  en- 
nobled mind.  The  peasantry,  from  a respectful 
distance,  would  look  upon  the  dazzling  specta- 
cle perfectly  bewildered  and  awe-stricken.  The 
service  of  silver  and  of  gold,  the  luxurious  vi- 
ands, the  gorgeous  display  of  graceful  female 
attire,  and  uniforms  and  liveries,  all  combined 
to  invest  the  scene,  in  their  eyes,  with  a splen- 
dor almost  more  than  earthly. 

On  one  occasion,  a mother’s  love  and  pride 
triumphed  over  even  her  scrupulous  obedience 
to  the  wishes  of  Napoleon.  Napoleon  and  Jo- 
sephine, accompanied  by  Eugene  and  a very 
magnificent  retinue,  were  at  Mayence.  There 
was  to  be  a grand  presentation  of  the  German 
princes  to  the  emperor  and  empress.  Eugene, 
the  son  of  the  empress,  according  to  the  laws 
of  court  etiquette,  should  have  been  included 
with  Napoleon  and  Josephine  in  the  presenta- 
tion. By  some  oversight,  his  name  was  omit- 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


211 


tec).  As  Josephine  glanced  her  eye  over  the 
program,  she  noticed  the  omission,  and  point- 
ed it  out  to  Napoleon.  As  the  arrangements 
had  all  been  made  by  him,  he  was  not  a little 
piqued  in  finding  himself  at  fault  as  to  a point 
of  etiquette,  and  insisted  upon  following  the 
program.  Josephine,  ever  ready  to  make  any 
personal  sacrifice  to  meet  the  wishes  of  Napo- 
leon, could  not  be  induced  to  sacrifice  the  sensi- 
tive feelings  of  her  son.  “ I had  no  desire,” 
she  said,  “ for  the  honors  of  coronation ; but, 
since  I have  been  crowned,  my  son  must  be 
treated  as  the  son  of  an  empress.”  Napo- 
leon yielded,  not,  however,  with  very  good 
grace. 

Two  of  the  princesses  of  Baden,  on  this 
occasion,  accompanied  Josephine  to  the  opera. 
The  evening  air  was  chilly,  and  the  empress, 
observing  that  they  were  very  thinly  clad,  spread 
over  the  shoulders  of  each  of  them  one  of  her 
rich  white  Cashmere  shawls.  These  shawls  were 
of  the  most  costly  texture,  and  had  been  pur- 
chased at  an  expense  of  several  thousand  dollars. 
The  next  morning  the  elder  of  the  princesses 
sent  a note,  full  of  complimentary  terms,  to 
Josephine,  expressing  their  infinite  obligation 
for  her  kindness,  and  stating  that  they  would 
keep  the  shawls  in  remembrance  of  one  they  so 
greatly  admired. 

On  these  journeys  Napoleon  was  full  of  pleas- 


212 


JOSEPHINE. 


antry,  and  very  agreeable.  Josephine  often 
spoke  of  this  excursion  to  Mayence  in  particular 
as  the  most  delightful  that  she  had  ever  made 
with  the  emperor.  They  were  met  at  every 
step  on  their  route  with  the  most  enthusiastic 
testimonials  of  a nation’s  love  and  gratitude. 
And  Napoleon  had  at  this  time  conferred  bene- 
fits upon  France  which  richly  entitled  him  to 
all  this  homage.  In  subsequent  years,  when 
intoxicated  by  the  almost  boundless  empire  he 
had  obtained,  and  when,  at  a still  later  period, 
he  was  struggling,  with  the  energies  of  despair, 
against  Europe,  in  arms  to  crush  him,  he  re- 
sorted to  acts  which  very  considerably  impaired 
his  good  name.  Josephine,  in  her  journal  dur- 
ing this  journey,  speaks  of  the  common,  but 
erroneous  impression,  that  Napoleon  could  work 
constantly  and  habitually  with  very  few  hours 
devoted  to  sleep.  She  says  that  this  was  an 
erroneous  impression.  If  the  emperor  rose  at 
a very  early  hour  in  the  morning,  he  would 
frequently  retire  at  nine  o’clock  in  the  evening. 
And  when,  on  extraordinary  occasions,  he 
passed  many  nights  together  in  almost  sleepless 
activity,  he  had  the  faculty  of  catching  short 
naps  at  intervals  in  his  carriage,  and  even  on 
horseback.  After  many  days  and  nights  of 
preparation  for  some  great  conflict,  he  has  been 
known  even  to  fall  asleep  upon  the  field  of  bat- 
tle, in  the  midst  of  all  the  horrors  of  the  san- 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


213 


gu  inary  scene.  At  the  battle  of  Bautzen,  for 
instance,  Napoleon  was  extremly  fatigued  by 
the  exertions  and  sleeplessness  of  the  two  pre- 
ceding days  and  nights.  He  fell  asleep  several 
times  when  seated  on  an  eminence,  overlooking 
the  field  of  battle,  and  which  was  frequently 
reached  by  the  cannon  balls  of  the  enemy. 
Napoleon,  at  St.  Helena  when  alluding  to  this 
fact,  said  that  Nature  had  her  rights,  which 
could  not  be  violated  with  impunity  ; and  that 
he  felt  better  prepared  to  issue  fresh  orders,  or 
to  consider  the  reports  which  were  brought, 
when  awakening  from  these  momentary  slum- 
bers. Though  Napoleon  could  not  set  at  de- 
fiance the  established  laws  of  our  mental  and 
physical  nature,  words  can  hardly  convey  an 
adequate  idea  of  the  indefatigable  activity  of 
his  mind,  or  of  his  extraordinary  powers  of 
enduring  mental  and  bodily  fatigue.  Few  have 
ever  understood  better  the  art  of  concentrating 
the  attention  upon  one  thing  at  a time.  Often, 
on  his  campaigns,  after  reading  the  despatches, 
and  dictating  orders  to  one  set  of  secretaries 
during  the  whole  day,  he  would  throw  himself, 
for  an  hour,  upon  his  sofa,  instantly  fall  into 
the  soundest  sleep,  and  then,  summoning  to 
his  presence  a new  relay  of  secretaries,  would 
keep  them  incessantly  occupied  till  morning. 
To  keep  himself  awake  on  such  occasions,  he 
resorted  to  strong  coffee.  It  was  only  under 


214 


JOSEPHINE. 


the  pressure  of  great  necessity  that  he  thus 
overtasked  his  Herculean  powers. 

Occasionally,  when  Napoleon  was  absent  on 
his  campaigns,  Josephine  would  retire  to  Mal- 
maison,  and  become  deeply  interested  in  rural 
occupations.  She  had  a large  and  very  fine 
flock  of  merino  sheep,  and  she  took  great  pleas- 
ure in  superintending  their  culture.  A detach- 
ment of  the  imperial  guard  was,  on  such  occa- 
sions, appointed  to  do  duty  at  Malmaison.  One 
evening  the  empress,  sitting  up  till  a later  hour 
than  usual,  heard  the  sound  of  footsteps  passing 
to  and  fro  beneath  her  window.  She  sent  for 
the  officer  of  the  guard,  and  inquired  what  it 
meant.  He  informed  her  that  it  was  the  sentry, 
who  was  appointed  to  keep  watch  beneath  her 
window  all  night.  “ Sir,”  she  replied,  “ I have 
no  need  of  a night-guard.  These  brave  soldiers 
have  enough  to  suffer  from  the  hardships  of 
war  when  they  are  under  the  necessity  of  going 
to  the  field  of  battle.  In  my  service  they  must 
have  repose.  I wish  them  here  to  have  no 
sleepless  nights.” 

It  is  said  that  rather  a ludicrous  occurrence 
took  place  in  one  of  the  cities  of  the  Rhine,  in 
reference  to  a visit  which  the  emperor  and  em- 
press were  about  to  make  to  that  place.  One 
of  the  distinguished  ladies  of  the  city,  who  was 
anticipating  the  honor  of  a presentation,  wrote 
to  obtain  from  the  master  of  the  ceremonies 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


215 


instructions  respecting  the  etiquette  to  be  ob- 
served. The  answer  contained  very  minute 
directions,  and  was  couched  in  terms  which 
conveyed  a deep  impression  of  their  import- 
ance. Among  other  things,  it  was  stated  that 
three  courtesies  were  to  be  made  ; one  immedi- 
ately upon  entering  the  saloon,  one  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  and  a third,  en-pirouette , 
when  having  arrived  within  a few  paces  of  the 
emperor  and  empress.  The  familiar  significa- 
tion of  en  pirouette  is  whirling  the  body  around 
rapidly  upon  the  toes  of  one  foot,  the  other 
foot  being  rather  indecorously  raised.  The 
ladies  assembled  to  study  these  instructions  ; 
and  though  some  of  the  young,  the  beautiful, 
and  the  graceful  were  not  unwilling  thus  to 
display  their  lightness  of  limb,  there  were  others 
who  read  en  pirouette  with  consternation.  The 
vast  importance  which  Napoleon  attached  to 
every  form  of  etiquette  was  well  known.  There 
was  no  alternative  ; the  fat  and  the  lean,  the 
tall  and  the  short,  the  graceful  and  the  awk- 
ward, all  were  to  approach  their  majesties  en 
; pirouette , or  to  lose  the  honor  of  a presenta- 
tion. “We  have  a fortnight  for  practise,” 
said  one  of  the  ladies  ; “ let  us  prepare  our- 
selves.” For  fifteen  days  all  the  drawing-rooms 
of  Cologne  seemed  to  be  filled  with  dancing 
dervishes.  Venerable  dowagers  were  twirling 
like  opera  girls,  and  not  unfrequently  measur- 


/ 


216  JOSEPHINE- 

ing  their  portly  length  upon  the  carpet.  En 
pirouette  was  the  theme  of  every  tongue,  and 
the  scene,  morning,  noon,  and  evening,  in 
every  ambitious  saloon. 

On  the  evening  of  the  arrival  of  the  emperor 
and  empress,  the  same  lady  who  had  written 
the  letter  for  instructions  called  upon  one  of 
the  ladies  of  the  court  for  still  more  precise 
directions.  S^e  then  learned  that,  in  court 
phrase,  en  pirouette  simply  indicated  a slight 
inclination  of  the  body  toward  their  majesties, 
accompanying  the  courtesy.  The  intelligence 
was  immediately  disseminated  through  Cologne, 
to  the  great  relief  of  some,  and,  probably,  not 
a little  to  the  disappointment  of  others.  Jo- 
sephine was  exceedingly  amused  at  the  recital 
of  this  misunderstanding. 

Josephine  was  often  accused  of  extravagance. 
Her  expenditures  were  undoubtedly  very  great. 
She  attached  no  value  to  money  but  as  a means 
of  promoting  happiness.  She  was,  perhaps,  too 
easily  persuaded  to  purchase  of  those  who  were 
ever  urging  upon  her  the  most  costly  articles, 
and  appealing  powerfully  to  her  sympathies  to 
induce  her  to  buy.  It  was  difficult  for  Joseph- 
ine to  turn  a deaf  ear  to  a tale  of  distress. 
Napoleon  was  ever  ready  to  spend  millions  upon 
millions  in  great  public  improvements,  but  he 
was  not  willing  to  have  any  money  wasted. 
Josephine  gave  away  most  liberally  in  charity, 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


217 


and  the  emperor,  at  times,  complained  a little 
of  the  large  sums  which  escaped  through  her 
hands.  In  replying  once  to  a friend,  who  told 
her  that  she  was  deemed  extravagant,  she  said, 
“When  I have  money,  you  know  how  I em- 
ploy it.  I give  it  principally  to  the  unfortu- 
nate, who  solicit  my  assistance,  and  to  the  poor 
emigrants.  But  I will  try  to  be  more  econom- 
ical in  future.  Tell  the  emperor  so  if  you  see 
him  again.  But  is  it  not  my  duty  to  bestow 
as  much  charity  as  I can  ? ” 

On  one  occasion  Napoleon  was  much  dis- 
pleased by  hearing  that  Josephine  had  suffered 
General  Lorges,  the  commandment  at  Aix  la 
Chapelle,  a young  and  handsome  man,  to  be 
guilty  of  the  indiscretion  of  sitting  upon  the 
same  sofa  with  the  empress.  He  reproached 
her  with  much  severity  for  permitting  such  in- 
decorum. Josephine  explained  the  circum- 
stances. Instead  of  its  being  General  Lorges 
who  had  thus  violated  the  rules  of  courtly  pro- 
priety, it  was  one  of  the  aged  and  veteran  gen- 
erals of  Napoleon’s  army,  who,  inured  to  the 
hardships  of  the  camp, was  entirely  unacquainted 
with  the  politeness  of  courts.  He  had  been  pre- 
sented to  Josephine,  and,  without  any  conscious- 
ness of  the  impropriety  of  which  he  was  guilty, 
immediately  seated  himself  upon  the  same  sofa 
with  the  empress.  Josephine  was  unwilling  to 
wound  the  feelings  of  the  honest-hearted  old 


218 


JOSEPHINE. 


soldier,  and  permitted  him  to  retain  his  seat 
until  he  withdrew.  Napoleon  was  perfectly 
satisfied  with  the  explanation,  and,  upon  re- 
ceiving it,  manifested  renewed  indications  of 
the  affection  and  esteem  with  which  he  regard- 
ed the  empress. 

About  this  time  Josephine  was  informed  of 
the  contemplated  alliance  between  Eugene  and 
the  Princess-royal  of  Bavaria.  She  was  soon 
summoned  to  Munich  to  attend  their  nuptials, 
and  there  again  was  united  to  those  she  so  dearly 
loved.  The  bride  of  Eugene  was  in  every  re- 
spect worthy  of  him,  and  Josephine  rejoiced 
over  the  happiness  of  her  son.  The  victorious 
emperor  and  empress  then  returned  to  Paris, 
accompanied  by  a crowd  of  princes  from  the 
various  courts  of  Germany.  Josephine  was  now 
upon  the  very  summit  of  earthly  grandeur. 
Europe  lay  prostrate  at  the  feet  of  her  husband. 
Hortense  was  Queen  of  Holland.  Eugene  was 
Viceroy  of  Italy,  and  son-in-law  to  the  King  of 
Bavaria.  Napoleon,  fixing  his  affections  upon 
the  eldest  child  of  Hortense,  appeared  to  have 
relinquished  the  plan  of  the  divorce,  and  to  have 
contemplated  the  recognition  of  this  child — the 
brother  of  Louis  Napoleon,  now  President  of 
the  French  Republic — as  the  heir  of  his  crown. 
The  embarrassment  which  had  at  times  accom- 
panied their  interviews  had  consequently  passed 
away.  Napoleon  was  proud  of  Josephine,  and 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


219 


often  said  that  there  was  no  woman  in  the  world 
to  he  compared  with  her.  The  empress  was 
happy.  All  France  was  filled  with  stories  of 
her  active  benevolence  and  her  sympathy  with 
the  sorrowful.  Wherever  she  made  her  appear- 
ance, she  was  greeted  with  the  acclamations  of 
the  most  enthusiastic  attachment. 

Of  the  many  tours  which  Josephine  took 
with  Napoleon,  she  frequently  kept  a journal, 
noting  down  the  events  of  interest  which  oc^ 
curred.  The  fragments  of  these  journals, 
which  have  appeared  before  the  public,  beauti- 
fully exhibit  the  literary  taste  and  the  benevo- 
lence of  heart  of  the  empress.  The  following 
is  an  extract : 

“ About  two  leagues  from  Bayonne  the  em- 
peror was  presented  with  a spectacle  worthy  of 
him.  On  the  declivity  of  a mountain,  gently 
scooped  out  in  different  parts  of  its  descent,  is 
pitched  one  of  those  camps  which  the  foresight 
of  the  country  has  provided  for  its  defenders. 
It  is  composed  of  seven  handsome  barracks, 
different  in  form  and  aspect,  each  isolated,  sur- 
rounded with  an  orchard  in  full  bearing,  a well- 
stocked  poultry-yard,  and,  at  different  dis- 
tances, a greater  or  less  quantity  of  arable  land, 
where  a diversity  of  soil  yields  a variety  of  pro- 
duce. One  side  of  the  mountain  is  wild,  but 
picturesque,  with  rocks  and  plants.  The  other 
seems  covered  with  rich  tapestry,  so  varied  and 


220 


JOSEPHINE, 


numerous  are  the  plots  of  highly-cultivated 
ground.  The  summit  is  clothed  with  an  ever- 
verdant  forest.  Down  the  center,  in  a deep 
channel,  flows  a limpid  stream,  refreshing  and 
fertilizing  the  whole  scene.  On  this  spot,  the 
veterans  who  occupy  it  gave  a fete  to  the  em- 
peror which  was  at  once  military  and  rural. 
The  wives,  daughter^,  and  little  children  of 
these  brave  men  formed  the  most  pleasing,  as 
they  were  themselves  the  noblest  ornament  of 
the  festival.  Amid  piles  of  arms  were  seen 
beautiful  shrubs  covered  with  flowers,  while 
the  echoes  of  the  mountain  resounded  to  the 
bleating  of  flocks  and  warlike  strains  of  a sol- 
diery intoxicated  on  thus  receiving  their  chief. 
The  emperor  raised  this  enthusiasm  to  the  high- 
est pitch  by  sitting  down  at  a table  at  once  quite 
military  and  perfectly  pastoral.  I dare  not 
mention  the  attentions  of  which  I was  the  ob- 
ject. They  affected  me  deeply.  I regarded 
them  as  proofs  of  that  veneration  which  France 
lias  vowed  to  the  emperor.” 

The  infamous  Ferdinand  of  Spain,  who  was 
then  claiming  the  throne,  in  a disgraceful  quar- 
rel with  his  equally  infamous  father,  sent  an 
ambassador  to  Bayonne  to  meet  the  emperor. 
Ferdinand,  with  the  utmost  servility,  was  court- 
ing the  support  of  Napoleon.  The  ambassador 
possessed,  some  leagues  from  Bayonne,  an  ex- 
tensive farm,  on  which  were  bred  numerous 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


221 


flocks  of  merinoes.  “ Thither/'  writes  J oseph- 
ine,  “ under  a plausible  pretext,  we  were  con- 
ducted to-day.  After  a feast  of  really  rustic 
magnificence,  we  made  the  tour  of  the  posses- 
sion on  foot.  At  the  bottom  of  a verdant  dell, 
surrounded  on  all  sides  by  rocks,  covered  with 
moss  and  flowers,  all  of  a sudden  a picturesque 
cot  appeared,  lightly  suspended  on  a projecting 
point  of  rock.  Around  it  were  feeding  seven 
or  eight  hundred  sheep  of  the  most  beautiful 
breed.  We  could  not  restrain  a cry  of  admira- 
tion. Upon  the  emperor  addressing  some  com- 
pliments  to  the  ambassador,  he  declared  that 
these  flocks  belonged  to  me.  ‘ The  king,  my 
master/ he  added,  ‘ knows  the  empress's  taste 
for  rural  occupations,  and  as  this  species  of 
sheep  is  little  known  in  France,  and  will  con- 
stitute the  principal  ornament,  and,  conse- 
quently, wealth  of  a farm,  he  entreats  her  not 
to  deprive  herself  of  an  offering  at  once  so  use- 
ful and  so  agreeable.'  ‘Don  Pedro,'  replied 
the  emperor,  with  a tone  of  severity,  ‘ the  em- 
press cannot  accept  a present  save  from  the 
hand  of  a king,  and  your  master  is  not  yet  one. 
Wait,  before  making  your  offering,  till  your  own 
nation  and  I have  decided."' 

The  ordinary  routine  of  life  with  her,  as  em- 
press, was  as  follows.  Constant,  the  valet  de 
chambre  of  Napoleon,  gives  the  following  ac- 
count of  the  commencement  of  the  day.  “I 


222 


JOSEPHINE. 


had  a regular  order  to  enter  the  emperor’s 
apartment  at  seven  o’clock.  When  the  empress 
passed  the  night  there,  it  was  a very  unusual 
occurrence  not  to  find  the  august  spouses  awake. 
The  emperor  commonly  asked  for  tea  or  an  in- 
fusion of  orange-flowers,  and  rose  immediately 
after.  In  the  course  of  a few  minutes  the  em- 
press rose  also,  and,  putting  on  a loose  morning- 
gown,  either  read  the  journals  while  the  emper- 
or dressed,  or  retired  by  a private  access  to  her 
own  apartments,  but  never  without  addressing 
some  kind  and  condescending  words  to  myself.” 
J osephine  invariably  commenced  her  morning 
toilet  at  nine  o’clock.  This  occupied  an  hour, 
and  then  she  passed  into  a saloon  where  she  re- 
ceived those  who  had  obtained  the  favor  of  a 
morning  presentation.  A great  many  petitions 
were  presented  her  on  such  occasions,  and,  with 
unvarying  kindness,  she  manifested  great  firm- 
ness in  rejecting  those  which  appeared  unwor- 
thy of  her  support.  These  audiences  occupied 
an  hour,  and  then  she  met,  at  eleven  o’clock, 
the  most  distinguished  ladies  of  the  court  at  the 
breakfast-table.  Napoleon,  entirely  engrossed 
by  those  majestic  plans  he  was  ever  conceiving 
and  executing,  usually  breakfasted  alone  in  his 
cabinet,  very  hastily,  not  allowing  more  than 
seven  or  eight  minutes  to  be  occupied  by  the 
meal.  After  breakfast,  Josephine,  with  her 
ladies,  took  a short  walk,  if  the  weather  was 


J'j SEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


223 


fair,  or  for  half  an  hour  played  a game  of  bil- 
liards. The  remainder  of  the  morning,  until 
three  o'clock,  she  passed  in  her  apartment,  with 
her  chosen  female  friends,  reading,  conversing, 
and  embroidering.  Josephine  herself  was  an  ad- 
mirable reader,  and  the  book  they  were  per- 
using was  passed  alternately  from  hand  to 
hand.  No  works  were  read  but  those  of  real 
value.  By  common  consent,  all  novels  were 
banished  from  the  circle,  as  Napoleon  inveter- 
ately  abominated  every  work  of  that  kind.  If 
he  happened  to  find  a no\el  in  the  hands  of  any 
of  the  attendants  of  the  palace,  he  unhesitat- 
ingly tossed  it  into  the  fire,  and  roundly  lec- 
tured the  reader  upon  her  waste  of  time.  If 
Josephine  had  been  a novel  reader,  she  never 
could  have  acquired  that  mental  energy  which 
enabled  her  to  fill  with  dignity  and  with  honor 
every  position  she  was  called  to  occupy. 

Occasionally  Napoleon  would  leave  his  cabi- 
net and  enter  the  apartment  of  the  empress 
where  the  ladies  were  reading.  His  presence 
was  ever  cordially  greeted  and,  with  great  so- 
ciability, he  would  for  a few  moments  converse 
with  his  friends,  and  then  return  to  his  work. 
Not  unfrequently  the  emperor  wished  to  confer 
with  Josephine  upon  some  subject  of  moment. 
A gentle  tap  from  his  hand  at  the  door  of  pri- 
vate communication  announced  to  the  empress 
the  summons,  which  she  ever  most  joyfully 


224 


JOSEPHINE. 


obeyed.  Occasionally  these  interviews  were 
protracted  for  several  hours,  for  the  emperor 
had  learned  to  repose  great  confidence  in  many 
matters  upon  the  sound  judgment  of  Josephine. 

At  three  o’clock  the  carriages  were  at  the 
door,  and  Josephine,  with  her  ladies,  rode  out. 
It  was  very  seldom  that  Napoleon  could  find 
time  to  accompany  them.  On  returning  from 
the  drive,  she  dressed  for  dinner.  Napoleon  at- 
tached much  importance  to  this  grand  toilet, 
for  he  was  fully  aware  of  the  influence  of  cos- 
tume upon  the  public  mind,  and  was  very  fond 
of  seeing  Josephine  dressed  with  elegance  and 
taste.  It  is  reported  that  he  not  unfrequently 
recreated  himself  by  entering  her  boudoir  on 
such  occasions,  and  suggesting  the  robe  or  the 
jewelry  he  would  like  to  have  her  wear.  Her 
waiting- women  were  not  a little  embarrassed 
by  the  manner  in  which  his  unskilful  hands 
would  throw  about  the  precious  contents  of  the 
caskets,  and  the  confusion  into  which  he  would 
toss  all  the  nameless  articles  of  a lady’s  ward- 
robe. 

Dinner  was  appointed  at  six  o’clock.  It  was, 
however,  served  when  Napoleon  was  ready  to 
receive  it.  Not  unfrequently,  when  much  en- 
grossed with  business,  he  would  postpone  the 
hour  until  nine,  and  even  ten  o’clock.  The 
cook,  during  all  this  time,  would  be  preparing 
fresh  viands,  that  a hot  dinner  might  be  ready 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS.  225 

at  a moment's  warning.  A chicken,,  for  in- 
stance, was  put  upon  the  spit  every  fifteen  min- 
utes. Napoleon  and  Josephine  always  dined  to- 
gether, sometimes  alone,  more  frequently  with 
a few  invited  guests.  There  was  a grand  mas- 
ter of  ceremonies,  who,  on  all  such  occasions, 
informed  the  grand  marshal  of  the  necessary 
arrangements,  and  of  the  seat  each  guest  was 
to  occupy. 

Occasionally  the  emperor  and  empress  dined 
in  state.  Rich  drapery  canopied  the  table, 
which  was  placed  upon  a platform,  slightly 
elevated,  with  two  armchairs  of  gorgeous  work- 
manship, one  for  Napoleon,  and  the  other,  upon 
his  left,  for  J osephine.  Other  tables  were  placed 
upon  the  floor  of  the  same  room  for  illustrious 
guests.  The  grand  marshal  announced  to  the 
emperor  when  the  preparations  for  them  to  enter 
the  room  were  completed.  A gorgeous  proces- 
sion of  pages,  marshals,  equeries,  and  chamber- 
lains accompanied  the  emperor  and  empress  into 
the  hall.  Pages  and  stewards  performed  the 
subordinate  parts  of  the  service  at  the  table,  in 
bringing  and  removing  dishes,  while  noblemen 
of  the  highest  rank  felt  honored  in  ministering 
to  the  immediate  wants  of  their  majesties. 
Those  who  sat  at  the  surrounding  tables  were 
served  by  servants  in  livery. 

Josephine  passed  the  evening  in  her  apart- 
ment almost  invariably  with  a party  either  of 
*5 


226 


JOSEPHINE. 


invited  guests,  or  of  distinguished  ministers  and 
officers  of  the  empire,  who,  having  called  on 
business,  were  awaiting  the  pleasure  of  Napo- 
leon. There  were  frequent  receptions  and 
levees,  which  filled  the  saloons  of  the  palace  with 
a brilliant  throng.  At  midnight  all  company 
retired,  and  the  palace  was  still.  Josephine 
loved  the  silence  of  these  midnight  hours,  when 
the  turmoil  of  the  day  had  passed,  and  no 
sounds  fell  upon  her  ear  but  the  footfalls  of  the 
sentinel  in  the  courtyard  below.  She  often 
sat  for  an  hour  alone,  surrendering  herself  to 
the  luxury  of  solitude  and  of  undisturbed 
thought. 

Such  was  the  general  routine  of  the  life  of 
Josephine  while  empress.  She  passed  from  one 
to  another  of  the  various  royal  residences,  equal- 
ly at  home  in  all.  At  the  Tuilleries,  St.  Cloud, 
Versailles,  Rambouillet,  and  Fontainebleau,  life 
was  essentially  the  same.  Occasionally,  at  the 
rural  palaces,  hunting  parties  were  formed  for 
the  entertainment  of  distinguished  guests  from 
abroad.  Napoleon  himself  took  but  little  per- 
sonal interest  in  sports  of  this  kind.  On  such 
occasions,  the  empress,  with  her  ladies,  usually 
rode  in  an  open  caleche,  and  a picnic  was  pro- 
vided, to  be  spread  on  the  green  turf,  beneath 
the  boughs  of  the  forest.  Once  a terrified,  pant- 
ing stag,  exhausted  with  the  long  chase,  when 
the  hounds  in  full  bay  were  just  ready  to  spring 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


227 


upon  him,  by  a strange  instinct  sought  a retreat 
beneath  the  carriage  in  which  the  gentle  heart 
of  Josephine  was  throbbing.  The  appeal  was 
not  in  vain.  Josephine  pleaded  for  the  life  of 
the  meek-eyed,  trembling  suppliant.  To  mark 
it  as  her  favorite,  and  as  living  under  the  shield 
of  her  protection,  she  had  a silver  collar  put 
around  its  neck.  The  stag  now  roamed  its  na- 
tive glades  unharmed.  No  dog  was  permitted 
to  molest  it,  and  no  sportsman  would  injure  a 
protege  of  Josephine.  Her  love  was  its  talis- 
man. 

The  following  letter,  which  at  this  time  she 
wrote  to  Caroline,  the  sister  of  Napoleon,  who 
had  married  Murat,  will  show  the  principles,  in 
the  exercise  of  which  Josephine  won  to  herself 
the  love  of  all  hearts. 

“ Our  glory,  the  glory  of  woman,  lies  in  sub- 
mission ; and  if  it  be  permitted  us  to  reign,  our 
empire  rests  on  gentleness  and  goodness.  Your 
husband,  already  so  great  in  the  opinion  of  the 
world  through  his  valor  and  exploits,  feels  as 
if  he  beheld  all  his  laurels  brought  to  the  dust 
on  appearing  in  your  presence.  You  take  a 
pride  in  humbling  him  before  your  pretensions  ; 
and  the  title  of  being  the  sister  of  a hero  is,  with 
you,  reason  for  believing  yourself  a heroine. 
Believe  me,  my  sister,  that  character,  with  the 
qualities  which  it  supposes,  becomes  us  not. 
Let  us  rejoice  moderately  in  the  glory  of  our 


228 


JOSEPHINE. 


husbands,  and  find  our  glory  in  softening  their 
manners,  and  leading  the  world  to  pardon  their 
deeds.  Let  us  merit  this  praise,  that  the  nation, 
while  it  applauds  the  bravery  of  our  husbands, 
may  also  commend  the  gentleness  bestowed 
by  Providence  on  their  wives  to  temper  their 
bravery.  ” 

The  palace  ever  seemed  desolate  when  Napo- 
leon was  absent,  and  Josephine  was  always  so- 
licitous to  accompany  him  upon  his  tours.  Na- 
poleon loved  to  gratify  this  wish,  for  he  prized 
most  highly  the  companionship  of  his  only  con- 
fidential friend.  Upon  one  occasion,  when  he 
had  promised  to  take  the  empress  with  him,  cir- 
cumstances arose  demanding  special  speed,  and 
he  resolved  to  set  out  secretly  without  her.  He 
ordered  his  carriage  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ning — an  hour  in  which  he  supposed  she  would 
be  most  soundly  asleep.  To  his  amazement, 
just  as  he  had  stepped  into  his  carriage,  Jose- 
phine, in  all  the  dishabille  of  her  night-dress, 
with  some  slight  drapery  thrown  over  her  person, 
and  without  even  stockings  upon  her  feet,  threw 
herself  into  his  arms.  Some  noise  had  at  the 
moment  awoke  her,  she  caught  an  intimation  of 
what  was  going  on,  and  without  a moment's 
thought,  sprang  from  her  bed,  threw  over  her  a 
cloak,  rushed  down-stairs,  and  burst  into  the 
carriage.  Napoleon  fondly  embraced  her,  rolled 
her  up  warmly  in  his  own  capacious  traveling 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


229 


pelisse,  gave  orders  for  suitable  attendants  to 
follow  with  the  wardrobe  of  the  empress,  and 
the  horses,  with  lightning  speed,  darted  from 
the  courtyard.  “I  could  sooner,”  Napoleon 
would  jocosely  says,  “ transport  the  whole  ar- 
tillery of  a division  of  my  grand  army,  than  the 
bandboxes  of  Josephine’s  waiting-women.” 

The  visit  which  Josephine  made  with  Napo- 
leon to  Spain  gave  her  such  an  insight  into  the 
Spanish  character,  that  she  looked  with  much 
alarm  upon  his  endeavor  to  place  one  of  his 
brothers  upon  the  Spanish  throne.  “Napo- 
leon,” said  she  one  day  to  her  ladies,  “ is  per- 
suaded that  he  is  to  subjugate  all  the  nations 
of  the  earth.  He  cherishes  such  a confidence 
in  his  star , that  should  he  be  abandoned  to- 
morrow by  family  and  allies,  a wanderer,  and 
proscribed,  he  would  support  life,  convinced 
that  he  should  triumph  over  all  obstacles,  and 
accomplish  his  destiny  by  realizing  his  mighty 
designs.  Happily,  we  shall  never  have  an 
opportunity  of  ascertaining  whether  I am 
right.  But  of  this  you  may  rest  assured,  Na- 
poleon is  more  courageous  morally  than  phys- 
ically. I know  him  better  than  any  one  else 
does.  He  believes  himself  predestinated,  and 
would  support  reverses  with  as  much  calmness 
as  he  manifests  when  confronting  danger  on 
the  field  of  battle.” 

Little  did  Josephine  imagine,  when  uttering 


230 


JOSEPHINE. 


these  sentiments,  that  her  proud  husband,  be- 
fore whose  naine*the  world  seemed  to  tremble, 
was  to  die  in  poverty  and  imprisonment  on  the 
most  barren  island  of  the  ocean. 

The  astounding  energy  of  Napoleon  was  con- 
spicuously displayed  about  this  time  in  bis 
Spanish  campaign.  He  had  placed  Joseph 
upon  the  throne  of  Spain,  and  had  filled  the 
Peninsula  with  his  armies.  The  Spaniards  had 
everywhere  risen  against  him,  and,  guided  by 
English  counsels,  and  inspirited  by  the  tremen- 
dous energy  of  English  arms,  they  had  driven 
Joseph  from  his  capital,  had  massacred,  by  the 
rage  of  the  mob,  thousands  of  French  residents 
who  were  dwelling  in  the  Spanish  cities,  and 
were  rapidly  driving  the  French  army  over  the 
Pyrenees.  Napoleon  had  but  just  returned 
from  the  treaty  of  Tilsit  when  he  was  informed 
of  this  discouraging  state  of  affairs. 

He  immediately,  without  a moment  allowed 
for  repose,  set  out  for  Spain.  Josephine  ear- 
nestly entreated  permission  to  accompany  the 
emperor.  She  assured  him  that  she  was  fully 
aware  of  the  difficulties,  fatigue,  and  peril  she 
must  encounter,  but  that  most  cheerfully  could 
she  bear  them  all  for  the  sake  of  being  with 
him.  She  said  that  she  should  neither  feel 
hunger  nor  cold,  nor  the  need  of  repose,  if  she 
could  but  be  by  the  side  of  her  husband,  and 
that  all  the  privations  of  the  camp  would  be 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS.  231 

happiness  when  shared  with  one  who  was  all 
the  world  to  her.  Napoleon  was  deeply  moved 
by  this  exhibition  of  her  love,  but,  aware  of  the 
incessant  activity  with  which  it  would  be  nec- 
essary for  him  to  drive  by  night  and  by  day, 
he  firmly  but  kindly  denied  her  request.  Jo- 
sephine wept  bitterly  as  they  parted. 

One  morning,  early  in  November,  1808,  the 
glittering  cavalcade  of  the  emperor,  at  the  full 
gallop,  drove  into  the  encampment  of  the  re- 
treating French  at  Vittoria.  The  arrival  of  an 
angel,  commissioned  from  heaven  to  their  aid, 
could  not  have  inspired  the  soldiers  with  more 
enthusiasm.  The  heavens  rang  with  the  shouts 
of  the  mighty  host,  as  they  greeted  their  mon- 
arch with  cries  of  “Vive  FEmpereur!”  Not 
one  moment  was  lost.  Napoleon  placed  him- 
self at  the  head  of  his  concentrated  army,  and 
turning  them,  now  inspirited  with  the  utmost 
confidence,  against  the  foes  before  whom  they 
had  been  retreating,  with  the  resistlessness  of 
an  avalanche  overwhelmed  the  Spanish  forces. 
Wherever  he  appeared,  resistance  melted  away 
before  him.  In  the  pride  of  achievements 
almost  miraculous,  he  marched  into  Madrid, 
and  there,  in  the  capital  of  Spain,  re-estab- 
lished his  fallen  throne.  But  he  tarried  not 
there  an  hour  for  indulgence  or  repose.  The 
solid  columns  of  the  English  army,  under  Sir 
John  Moore,  were  still  in  Spain.  Napoleon 


232 


JOSEPHINE. 


urged  his  collected  forces,  with  all  the  energy 
which  hatred  could  inspire,  upon  his  English 
foes,  and  the  Britons,  mangled  and  bleeding, 
were  driven  into  their  ships.  The  conqueror, 
feeling  that  he  was  indeed  the  man  of  destiny, 
looked  for  a moment  complacently  upon  Spain, 
again  in  subjection  at  his  feet,  and  then,  with 
the  speed  of  the  whirlwind,  returned  to  Jo- 
sephine at  St.  Cloud,  having  been  absent  but 
little  more  than  two  months. 

In  the  mean  time,  while  Napoleon  was  far 
away  with  his  army,  upon  the  other  side  of  the 
Pyrenees,  Russia,  Sweden,  and  Austria  thought 
it  a favorable  moment  to  attack  him  in  his 
rear.  They  brought  no  accusations  against  the 
emperor,  they  issued  no  proclamation  of  war, 
but  secretly  and  treacherously  conspired  to 
march,  with  all  the  strength  of  their  collected 
armies,  upon  the  unsuspecting  emperor.  It 
was  an  alliance  of  the  kings  of  Europe  against 
Napoleon,  because  he  sat  upon  the  throne,  not 
by  hereditary  descent,  the  only  recognized 
divine  right,  but  by  the  popular  vote.  The  in- 
dignation of  the  emperor,  and  of  every  patriotic 
Frenchman,  had  been  roused  by  the  totally 
unjustifiable,  but  bold  and  honest  avowal  of 
England,  that  peace  could  only  be  obtained  by 
the  wresting  of  the  crown  from  the  brow  of 
Napoleon,  and  replacing  it  upon  the  head  of 
the  rejected  Bourbon. 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


233 


The  emperor  had  been  at  St.  Cloud  but  a short 
time,  when,  early  one  spring  morning,  a cour- 
ier came  dashing  into  the  courtyard  of  the  pal- 
ace at  his  utmostspeed,  bringing  the  intelligence 
to  Napoleon  that  Austria  had  treacherously  vi- 
olated the  treaty  of  peace,  and,  in  alliance  with 
Russia,  Sweden,  and  England,  was  marching 
her  armies  to  invade  the  territory  of  France. 
The  emperor,  his  eye  flashing  with  indignation, 
hastily  proceeded  to  the  apartment  of  the  em- 
press with  the  papers  communicating  the  intel- 
ligence in  his  hand.  Josephine  was  asleep,  hav- 
ing but  just  retired.  He  approached  her  bed, 
and,  awaking  her  from  sound  slumber,  requested 
her  to  be  ready  in  two  hours  to  accompany 
him  to  Germany.  “You  have  played  the  part  of 
an  empress,”  said  he,  playfully,  “ long  enough. 
You  must  now  become  again  the  wife  of  a gen- 
eral. I leave  immediately.  Will  you  accom- 
pany me  to  Strasburg  ?”  This  was  short  no- 
tice, but,  with  the  utmost  alacrity,  she  obeyed 
the  joyful  summons. 

She  was  so  accustomed  to  the  sudden  move- 
ments of  the  emperor  that  she  was  not  often 
taken  by  surprise.  Promptness  was  one  of  the 
most  conspicuous  of  her  manifold  virtues.  “I 
have  never,”  she  has  been  heard  to  say,  “ kept 
any  one  waiting  for  me  half  a minute,  when  to 
be  punctual  depended  upon  myself.  Punctual- 
ity is  true  politeness,  especially  in  the  great.” 


234 


JOSEPHINE. 


The.  emperor  was  in  glowing  spirits.  He  had 
no  doubt  that  he  should  be  entirely  victorious, 
and  Josephine  was  made  truly  happy  by  that 
suavity  and  those  kind  attentions  which  he  in 
this  journey  so  signally  displayed.  Their  route 
conducted  them  through  some  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  fertile  valleys  of  France.  Everywhere 
around  them  they  saw  the  indications  of  pros- 
perity and  happiness.  Napoleon  was  in  the 
height  of  glory.  The  most  enthusiastic  accla- 
mations of  love  and  homage  greeted  the  em- 
peror and  empress  wherever  the  panting  steeds 
which  drew  them  rested  for  a moment.  As 
they  stopped  for  a new  relay  of  horses  in  one  of 
the  little  villages  of  Lorraine,  Josephine  beheld 
a peasant  woman  kneeling  upon  the  steps  of 
the  village  church,  with  her  countenance  bathed 
in  tears.  The  aspect  of  grief  ever  touched  the 
kind  heart  of  the  empress.  She  sent  for  the 
poor  woman,  and  inquired  into  the  cause  of  her 
grief. 

“ My  poor  grandson,  Joseph,”  said  she,  “ is 
included  in  the  conscription,  and,  notwithstand- 
ing all  my  prayers,  he  must  become  a soldier. 
And  more  than  this,  his  sister  Julie  was  to  have 
been  married  to  Michael,  a neighbor's  son,  and 
now  he  refuses  to  marry  her  because  Joseph  is 
in  the  conscription.  And  should  my  son  pur- 
chase a substitute  for  poor  Joseph,  it  would  take 
all  his  money,  and  he  would  have  no  dowry  to 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


235 


give  Julie.  And  her  dowry  was  to  have  been  a 
hundred  and  twenty  dollars.” 

“ Take  that,”  said  the  emperor,  presenting 
the  woman  with  a purse.  “ You  will  find 
enough  who  will  be  ready  to  supply  JoseplTs 
place  for  that  amount.  I want  soldiers,  and, 
for  that  purpose,  must  encourage  marriages.” 
Josephine  was  so  much  interested  in  the  adven- 
ture, that,  as  soon  as  she  arrived  at  Strasburg, 
she  sent  a valuable  bridal  present  to  Julie.  The 
good  womaiTs  prayers  were  answered.  From 
Strasburg  Josephine  returned  to  Paris,  while 
Napoleon  pressed  on  to  encounter  the  combined 
armies  of  Austria  and  Kussia  in  the  renowned 
campaign  of  Wagram. 

It  was  in  1805,  some  years  before  the  events 
we  have  just  described,  that  Napoleon,  with  his 
enthusiastic  troops,  embarked  in  the  celebrated 
campaign  of  Ulm  and  Austerlitz.  At  Ulin  he 
surrounded  thirty  thousand  of  his  foes,  and  al- 
most without  a skirmish  compelled  them  to 
lay  down  their  arms.  “ Your  master,”  said  he 
to  the  Austrian  generals,  as,  almost  dying  with 
mortification,  they  surrendered  their  swords, 
“ your  master  wages  against  me  an  unjust  war. 
I say  it  candidly,  I know  not  for  what  I am 
fighting.  I know  not  what  he  desires  of  me. 
He  has  wished  to  remind  me  that  I was  once  a 
soldier.  I trust  he  will  find  that  I have  not  for- 
gotten my  original  avocation.  I will,  however^ 


236 


JOSEPHINE. 


given  one  piece  of  advice  to  my  brother,  the 
Emperor  of  Austria.  Let  him  hasten  to  make 
peace.  This  is  the  moment  to  remember  that 
there  are  limits  to  all  empires,  however  power- 
ful. The  idea  that  the  house  of  Lorraine  may 
come  to  an  end  should  inspire  him  with  distrust 
of  fortune.  I want  nothing  on  the  Continent. 
I desire  ships , colonies , and  commerce . Their 
acquisition  would  be  as  advantageous  to  you  as 
to  me.” 

Prom  Ulm,  Napoleon,  with  two  hundred 
thousand  men,  flushed  with  victory,  rushed  like 
a tempest  down  the  valley  of  the  Danube,  driv- 
ing the  terrified  Austrians  before  him  like  chaff 
swept  by  the  whirlwind.  Ten  thousand  bomb- 
shells were  rained  down  upon  the  roofs  of  Vi- 
enna, till  the  dwellings  and  the  streets  were 
deluged  with  the  blood  of  innocence,  and  then 
the  gates  were  thrown  open  for  the  entrance  of 
the  conqueror.  Alexander,  the  Emperor  of  all 
the  Russias,  was  hastening  down  from  the  North, 
with  his  barbarian  hordes,  to  aid  the  beleaguered 
city.  Napoleon  tarried  not  at  Vienna.  Fear- 
lessly pushing  on  through  the  sleet  and  the  hail 
of  a Northern  winter,  he  disappeared  in  the  dis- 
tance from  the  eyes  of  France.  Austria,  Swe- 
den, Russia,  were  assembling  their  innumerable 
legions  to  crush  him.  He  was  far  from  home, 
in  a hostile  country.  Rumors  that  his  rashness 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


237 


liad  led  to  his  ruin  began  to  circulate  through- 
out Europe. 

Josephine  was  almost  distracted  with  anxiety 
respecting  her  husband.  She  knew  that  a ter- 
rible battle  was  approaching,  in  which  he  was 
to  encounter  fearful  odds.  The  most  gloomy 
forebodings  pervaded  Paris  and  all  France. 
Several  days  had  passed,  during  which  no  intel- 
ligence whatever  had  been  received  from  the 
distant  army.  Ominous  whispers  of  defeat  and 
ruin  filled  the  air.  The  cold  blasts  of  a Decem- 
ber night  were  whistling  around  the  towers  of 
St.  Cloud,  as  Josephine  and  a few  of  her  friends 
were  assembled  in  the  saloon,  anxiously  await- 
ing tidings  from  Napoleon.  It  was  no  time  for 
hilarity,  and  no  one  attempted  even  to  promote 
festive  enjoyment.  The  hour  of  nine  o’clock 
had  arrived,  and  yet  no  courier  appeared.  All 
hopes  of  any  tidings  on  that  day  were  relin- 
quished. Suddenly  the  clatter  of  iron  hoofs  was 
heard  as  a single  horseman  galloped  into  the 
courtyard.  J osephine  almost  fainted  with  emo- 
tion as  she  heard  the  feeble  shout,  “Victory- — 
Austerlitz  ! ” She  rushed  to  the  window  and 
threw  it  open.  The  horse  of  the  courier  had 
fallen  dead  upon  the  pavement,  and  the  exhaust- 
ed rider,  unable  to  stand,  was  half  reclining  by 
his  side.  In  the  intensity  of  her  impatience, 
Josephine  rushed  down  the  stairs  and  into  the 
courtyard,  followed  by  all  her  ladies.  The 


238 


JOSEPHINE. 


faithful  messenger  was  brought  to  her  in  the 
arms  of  four  men.  He  presented  to  the  empress 
a blurred  and  blotted  line,  which  the  emperor 
had  written  amid  the  thunder  and  the  smoke, 
the  uproar  and  the  carnage  of  the  dreadful  day 
of  Austerlitz.  As  soon  as  Napoleon  saw  the 
field  covered  with  the  slain,  and  the  routed 
armies  of  his  foes  flying  in  dismay  before  their 
triumphant  pursuers,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  hor- 
rors of  that  most  horrible  scene,  he  turned  the 
energies  of  his  impetuous  mind  from  the  hot 
pursuit  to  pen  a line  to  his  faithful  Josephine, 
announcing  the  victory.  The  empress,  with 
tears  almost  blinding  her  eyes,  read  the  billet 
where  she  stood,  by  the  light  of  a torch  which  an 
attendant  had  brought  her.  She  immediately 
drew  from  her  finger  a valuable  diamond  ring, 
and  presented  it  to  the  bearer  of  the  joyful  mes- 
sage. The  messenger  was  Moustache  the 
Mameluke,  who  had  accompanied  Napoleon 
from  Egypt,  and  who  was  so  celebrated  for  the 
devotion  of  his  attachment  to  the  emperor.  He 
had  ridden  on  horseback  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  within  twelve  hours. 

Napoleon  was  exceedingly  sensitive  to  any 
apparent  want  of  affection  or  attention  on  the 
part  of  Josephine.  A remarkable  occurrence, 
illustrative  of  this  sensitiveness,  took  place  on 
his  return  from  his  last  Austrian  campaign. 
When  he  arrived  at  Munich,  where  he  was  de- 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


239 


layed  for  a short  time,  he  dispatched  a courier 
to  Josephine,  informing  her  that  he  would  be  at 
Fontainebleau  on  the  evening  of  the  twenty-sev- 
enth, and  expressing  a wish  that  the  court  should 
be  assembled  there  to  meet  him.  He,  however, 
in  his  eagerness,  pressed  on  with  such  unantici- 
pated speed,  that  he  arrived  early  in  the  morn- 
ing of  the  twenty-sixth,  thirty-six  hours  earlier 
than  the  time  he  had  appointed.  He  had  actu- 
ally overtaken  his  courier,  and  entered  with  him 
the  courtyard  at  Fontainebleau.  Very  unreason- 
ably annoyed  at  finding  no  one  there  to  receive 
him,  he  said  to  the  exhausted  courier,  as  he  was 
dismounting  from  his  horse,  “ You  can  rest  to- 
morrow ; gallop  to  St  Cloud,  and  announce  my 
arrival  to  the  empress.”  It  was  a distance  of 
forty  miles.  Napoleon  was  very  impatient  all 
the  day,  and,  in  the  evening,  hearing  a carriage 
enter  the  courtyard,  he  eagerly  ran  down,  as 
was  his  invariable  custom,  to  greet  Josephine. 
To  his  great  disappointment,  the  carriage  con- 
tained only  some  of  her  ladies.  “ And  where  is 
the  empress  ? ” he  exclaimed,  in  surprise.  “ We 
have  preceded  her  by  perhaps  a quarter  of  an 
hour,”  they  replied.  The  emperor  was  now  in 
very  ill  humor.  “ A very  happy  arrangement,” 
said  he,  sarcastically ; and,  turning  upon  his 
heel,  he  ascended  to  the  little  library,  where  he 
had  been  busily  employed. 

Soon  Josephine  arrived.  Napoleon,  hearing 


240 


JOSEPHINE. 


the  carriage  enter  the  court,. coldly  asked  who 
had  come.  Being  informed  that  it  was  the 
empress,  he  moved  not  from  his  seat,  but  went 
on  very  busily  with  his  writing.  The  attendants 
were  greatly  surprised,  for  he  never  before  had 
been  known  to  omit  meeting  the  empress  at  her 
carriage.  Josephine,  entirely  unconscious  of 
any  fault,  and  delighted  with  the  thought  of 
again  meeting  her  husband,  and  of  ^surprising 
him  in  his  cabinet,  hastened  up-stairs  and  en- 
tered the  room.  Napoleon  looked  up  coldly 
from  his  papers,  and  addressed  her  with  the 
chilling  salutation,  “And  so,  madame,  you  have 
come  at  last  ! It  is  well.  I was  just  about  to 
set  out  for  St.  Cloud."  Josephine  burst  into 
tears,  and  stood  silently  sobbing  before  him. 
Napoleon  was  conquered.  His  own  conscience 
reproved  him  for  his  exceeding  injustice.  He 
rose  from  his  seat,  exclaiming,  “ Josephine,  I 
am  wrong;  forgive  me;"  and,  throwing  his 
arms  around  her  neck,  embraced  her  most 
tenderly.  The  reconciliation  was  immediate 
and  perfect,  for  the  gentle  spirit  of  Josephine 
could  retain  no  resentment. 

Napoleon  had  a very  decided  taste  in  refer- 
ence to  Josephine^  style  of  dress,  and  her  only 
ambition  was  to  decorate  her  person  in  a man- 
ner which  would  be  agreeable  to  him.  On  this 
occasion  she  retired  very  soon  to  dress  for 
dinner.  In  about  half  an  hour  she  reappeared. 


JOSEPHINE  AN  EMPRESS. 


241 


dressed  with  great  elegance,  in  a robe  of  white 
satin,  bordered  with  eider  down,  and  with  a 
wreath  of  blue  flowers,  entwined  with  silver 
ears  of  corn,  adorning  her  hair.  Napoleon  rose 
to  meet  her,  and  gazed  upon  her  with  an  expres- 
sion of  great  fondness.  Josephine  said,  with  a 
smile,  “ You  do  not  think  that  I have  occupied 
too  much  time  at  my  toilet  ? ” Napoleon  point- 
ed playfully  to  the  clock  upon  the  mantel,  which 
indicated  the  hour  of  half  past  seven,  and, 
taking  the  hand  of  his  wife,  entered  the  dining- 
room. 

Though  Napoleon  often  displayed  the  weak- 
nesses of  our  fallen  nature,  he  at  times  exhibit- 
ed the  noblest  traits  of  humanity.  On  one  oc- 
casion, at  Boulogne,  he  was  informed  of  a young 
English  sailor,  a prisoner  of  war,  who  had  es- 
caped from  his  imprisonment  in  the  interior  of 
France,  and  had  succeeded  in  reaching  the 
coast  near  that  town.  He  had  secretly  con- 
structed, in  an  unfrequented  spot,  a little  skiff, 
of  the  branches  and  bark  of  trees,  in  which 
fabric,  almost  as  fragile  as  the  ark  of  bulrushes, 
he  was  intending  to  float  out  upon  the  storm- 
swept  channel,  hoping  to  be  picked  up  by  some 
English  cruiser  and  conveyed  home.  Napoleon 
was  struck  with  admiration  in  view  of  the  fear- 
lessness of  the  project,  and,  sending  for  the 
young  man,  questioned  him  very  minutely 
respecting  the  motives  which  could  induce  him 
*5 


242 


JOSEPHINE. 


to  undertake  so  perilous  an  adventure.  The 
emperor  expressed  some  doubt  whether  he  would 
really  have  ventured  to  encounter  the  dangers 
of  the  ocean  in  so  frail  a skiff.  The  young  man 
entreated  Napoleon  to  ascertain  whether  he  was 
in  earnest  by  granting  him  permission  to  carry 
his  design  into  execution.  “ You  must  doubt- 
less, then,”  said  the  emperor,  “ have  some  mis- 
tress to  revisit,  since  you  are  so  desirous  to  re- 
turn to  your  country  ?”  “ No  ! ” replied  the 

sailor,  “ I wish  to  see  my  mother.  She  is  aged 
and  infirm.”  The  heart  of  the  emperor  was 
touched.  “ You  shall  see  her,”  he  energetically 
and  promptly  replied.  He  immediately  gave 
orders  that  the  young  man  should  be  thoroughly 
furnished  with  all  comforts,  and  sent  in  a 
cruiser,  with  a flag  of  truce,  to  the  first  British 
vessel  which  could  be  found.  He  also  gave  the 
young  man  a purse  for  his  mother,  saying,  “ She 
must  be  no  common  parent  who  can  have 
trained  up  so  affectionate  and  dutiful  a son.” 


THE  DIVOKCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  243 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  DIVOKCE  AND  LAST  DAYS. 

Allusion  has  already  been  made  to  the  strong 
attachment  with  which  Napoleon  cherished  his 
little  grandchild,  the  son  of  Hortense  and  of 
his  brother  Louis.  The  boy  was  extremely 
beautiful/ and  developed  all  those  noble  and 
spirited  traits  of  character  which  peculiarly 
delighted  the  emperor.  Napoleon  had  ap- 
parently determined  to  make  the  young  prince 
his  heir.  This  was  so  generally  the  under- 
standing, both  in  France  and  in  Holland,  that 
Josephine  was  quite  at  ease,  and  serene  days 
dawned  again  upon  her  heart. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1807,  this  child,  upon 
whom  such  destinies  were  depending,  then  five 
years  of  age,  was  seized  suddenly  and  violently 
with  the  croup,  and  in  a few  hours  died.  The 
blow  fell  upon  the  heart  of  Josephine  with  most 
appalling  power.  Deep  as  was  her  grief  at  the 
loss  of  the  child,  she  was  overwhelmed  with 
uncontrollable  anguish  in  view  of  those  fearful 
consequences  which  she  shuddered  to  contem- 


244 


JOSEPHINE. 


plate.  She  knew  that  Napoleon  loved  her 
fondly,  but  she  also  knew  the  strength  of  his 
ambition,  and  that  he  would  make  any  sacrifice 
of  his  affection,  which,  in  his  view,  would  sub- 
serve the  interests  of  his  power  and  his  glory. 
For  three  days  she  shut  herself  up  in  her  room, 
and  was  continually  bathed  in  tears. 

The  sad  intelligence  was  conveyed  to  Napo- 
leon when  he  was  far  from  home,  in  the  midst 
of  the  Prussian  campaign.  He  had  been  vic- 
torious, almost  miraculously  victorious,  over 
his  enemies.  He  had  gained  accessions  of  power 
such  as,  in  the  wildest  dreams  of  youth,  he  had 
hardly  imagined.  All  opposition  to  his  sway 
was  now  apparently  crushed.  Napoleon  had 
become  the  creator  of  kings,  and  the  proudest 
rnonarchs  of  Europe  were  constrained  to  do  his 
bidding.  It  was  in  an  hour  of  exultation  that 
the  mournful  tidings  reached  him.  He  sat 
down  in  silence,  buried  his  face  in  his  hands, 
and  for  a long  time  seemed  lost  in  the  most 
painful  musings.  He  was  heard  mournfully  and 
anxiously  to  repeat  to  himself  again  and  again, 
“ To  whom  shall  I leave  all  this  ? 99  The 
struggle  in  his  mind  between  his  love  for  Jo- 
sephine and  his  ambitious  desire  to  found  a new 
dynasty,  and  to  transmit  his  name  and  fame  to 
all  posterity,  was  fearful.  It  was  manifest  in 
his  pallid  cheek,  in  his  restless  eye,  in  the  loss 
of  appetite  and  of  sleep.  But  the  stern  will  of 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  245 


Bonaparte  was  unrelenting  in  its  purposes. 
With  an  energy  which  the  world  has  never  seen 
surpassed,  he  had  chosen  his  part.  It  was  the 
purpose  of  his  soul — the  purpose  before  which 
everything  had  to  bend — to  acquire  the  glory 
of  making  France  the  most  illustrious,  power- 
ful, and  happy  nation  earth  had  ever  seen. 
For  this  he  was  ready  to  sacrifice  comfort,  ease, 
and  his  sense  of  right.  For  this  he  was  ready 
to  sunder  the  strongest  ties  of  affection. 

Josephine  knew  Napoleon.  She  was  fully 
aware  of  his  boundless  ambition.  With  almost 
insupportable  anguish  she  wept  over  the  death 
of  this  idolized  child,  and,  with  a trembling 
heart,  awaited  her  husband’s  return.  Mysteri- 
ous hints  began  to  fill  the  journals  of  the  con- 
templated divorce,  and  of  the  alliance  of  Napo- 
leon with  various  princesses  of  foreign  courts. 

In  October,  1807,  Napoleon  returned  from 
Vienna.  He  greeted  Josephine  with  the  great- 
est kindness,  but  she  soon  perceived  that  his 
mind  was  ill  at  ease,  and  that  he  was  pondering 
the  fearful  question.  He  appeared  sad  and 
embarrassed.  He  had  frequent  private  inter- 
views with  his  ministers.  A general  feeling  of 
constraint  pervaded  the  court.  Napoleon 
scarcely  ventured  to  look  upon  his  wife,  as  if  ap- 
prehensive that  the  very  sight  of  one  whom  he 
had  loved  so  well  might  cause  him  to  waver  in  his 
firm  purpose.  Josephine  was  in  a state  of  the 


246 


JOSEPHINE. 


most  feverish  solicitude,  and  yet  was  compelled 
to  appear  calm  and  unconstrained.  As  yet  she 
had  only  fearful  forebodings  of  her  impending 
doom.  She  watched,  with  most  excited  appre- 
hension, every  movement  of  the  emperor’s  eye, 
every  intonation  of  his  voice,  every  sentiment 
he  uttered.  Each  day  some  new  and  trivial  in- 
dication confirmed  her  fears.  Her  husband  be- 
came more  reserved,  absented  himself  from  her 
society,  and  the  private  access  between  their 
apartments  was  closed.  He  now  seldom  en- 
tered her  room,  and  whenever  he  did  so,  he  in- 
variably knocked.  And  yet  not  one  word  had 
passed  between  him  and  Josephine  upon  the 
fearful  subject.  Whenever  Josephine  heard  the 
sound  of  his  approaching  footsteps,  the  fear 
that  he  was  coming  with  the  terrible  announce- 
ment of  separation  immediately  caused  such 
violent  palpitations  of  the  heart  that  it  was 
with  the  utmost  difficulty  she  could  totter  across 
the  floor,  even  when  supporting  herself  by  lean- 
ing against  the  walls,  and  catching  at  the  arti- 
cles of  furniture. 

The  months  of  October  and  November  passed 
away,  and,  while  the  emperer  was  discussing 
with  his  cabinet  the  alliance  into  which  he 
should  enter,  he  had  not  yet  summoned  courage 
to  break  the  subject  to  Josephine.  The  evi- 
dence is  indubitable  that  he  experienced  intense 
anguish  in  view  of  the  separation,  but  this  did 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  247 

not  influence  his  iron  will  to  swerve  from  its 
purpose.  The  grandeur  of  his  fame  and  the 
magnitude  of  his  power  were  now  such,  that 
there  was  not  a royal  family  in  Europe  which 
would  not  have  felt  honored  in  conferring  upon 
him  a bride.  It*was  at  first  contemplated  that 
he  should  marry  some  princess  of  the  Bourbon 
family,  and  thus  add  to  the  stability  of  his 
throne  by  conciliating  the  Royalists  of  France. 
A princess  of  Saxony  was  proposed.  Some 
weighty  considerations  urged  an  alliance  with 
the  majestic  empire  of  Russia,  and  some  ad- 
vances were  made  to  the  court  of  St.  Peters- 
burg, having  in  view  a sister  of  the  Emperor 
Alexander.  It  was  finally  decided  that  pro- 
posals should  be  made  to  the  court  of  Vienna 
for  Maria  Louisa,  daughter  of  the  Emperor  of 
Austria. 

At  length  the  fatal  day  arrived  for  the  an- 
nouncement to  Josephine.  It  was  the  last  day 
of  November,  L809.  The  emperor  and  empress 
dined  at  Fontainebleau  alone.  She  seems  to 
have  had  a presentiment  that  her  doom  was 
sealed,  for  all  that  day  she  had  been  in  her  re- 
tired apartment,  weeping  bitterly.  As  the  din- 
ner-hour approached,  she  bathed  her  swollen 
eyes,  and  tried  to  regain  composure.  They  sat 
down  at  the  table  in  silence.  Napoleon  did  not 
speak.  Josephine  could  not  trust  her  voice  to 
utter  a word.  Neither  ate  a mouthful.  Course 


/ 


248  JOSEPHINE. 

after  course  was  brought  in  and  removed  un- 
touched. A mortal  paleness  revealed  the  an- 
guish of  each  heart.  Napoleon , in  his  embar- 
rassment, mechanically,  and  apparently  uncon- 
sciously, struck  the  edge  of  his  glass  with  his 
knife,  while  lost  in  thought.  # A more  melan- 
choly meal  probably  was  never  witnessed.  The 
attendants  around  the  table  seemed  to  catch  the 
infection,  and  moved  softly  and  silently  in  the 
discharge  of  their  duties,  as  if  they  were  in  the 
chamber  of  the  dead.  At  last  the  ceremony  of 
dinner  was  over,  the  attendants  were  dismissed, 
and  Napoleon,  rising,  and  closing  the  door  with 
his  own  hand,  was  left  alone  with  Josephine. 
Another  moment  of  most  painful  silence  ensued, 
when  the  emperor,  pale  as  death,  and  trembling 
in  every  nerve,  approached  the  empress.  He 
took  her  hand,  placed  it  upon  his  heart,  and  in 
faltering  accents  said,  “ Josephine  ! my  own 
good  Josephine  ! you  know  how  I have  loved 
you.  It  is  to  you  alone  that  I owe  the  only  few 
moments  of  happiness  I have  known  in  the 
world.  Josephine  ! my  destiny  is  stronger  than 
my  will.  My  dearest  affections  must  yield  to 
the  interests  of  France/* 

Josephine’s  brain  reeled  ; her  blood  ceased  to 
circulate;  she  fainted,  and  fell  lifeless  upon  the 
floor.  Napoleon,  alarmed,  threw  open  the  door 
of  the  saloon,  and  called  for  help.  Attendants 
from  the  ante-room  immediately  entered.  Na- 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  249 


poleon  took  a taper  from  the  mantle,  and  utter- 
ing not  a word,  but  pale  and  trembling,  mo- 
tioned to  the  Count  de  Beaumont  to  take  the 
empress  in  his  arms.  She  was  still  unconscious 
of  everything,  but  began  to  murmur,  in  tones 
of  anguish,  “ Oh,  no  ! you  cannot  surely  do 
it.  You  would  not  kill  me.”  The  emperor  led 
the  way,  through  a dark  passage,  to  the  private 
staircase  which  conducted  to  the  apartment 
of  the  empress.  The  agitation  of  Napoleon 
seemed  now  to  increase.  He  uttered  some  in- 
coherent sentences  about  a violent  nervous 
attack  ; and,  finding  the  stairs  too  steep  and 
narrow  for  the  Count  de  Beaumont  to  bear  the 
body  of  the  helpless  Josephine  unassisted,  he 
gave  the  light  to  an  attendant,  and,  supporting 
her  limbs  himself,  they  reached  the  door  of 
her  bed-room.  Napoleon  then,  dismissing  his 
male  attendants,  and  laying  Josephine  upon  her 
bed,  rang  for  her  waiting-women.  He  hung 
over  her  with  an  expression  of  the  most  intense 
affection  and  anxiety  until  she  began  to  revive. 
But  the  moment  consciousness  seemed  return- 
ing, he  left  the  room.  Napoleon  did  not  even 
throw  himself  upon  his  bed  that  night.  He 
paced  the  floor  until  the  dawn  of  the  morning. 
The  royal  surgeon,  Corvisart,  passed  the  night 
at  the  bedside  of  the  empress.  Every  hour 
the  restless  yet  unrelenting  emperor  called  at 
her  door  to  inquire  concerning  her  situation. 


250 


JOSEPHINE. 


“ On  recovering  from  my  swoon,"  says  Joseph- 
ine, “ I perceived  that  Corvisart  was  in  atten- 
dance, and  my  poor  daughter,  Hortense,  weep- 
ing over  me.  No  ! no  ! I cannot  describe  the 
horror  of  my  situation  during  that  night ! Even 
the  interest  he  affected  to  take  in  my  suffering 
seemed  to  me  additional  cruelty.  Oh  ! how 
much  reason  had  I to  dread  becoming  an 
empress  ! " 

A fortnight  now  passed  away,  during  which 
Napoleon  and  Josephine  saw  but  little  of  each 
other.  During  this  time  there  occurred  the  an- 
niversary of  the  coronation,  and  of  the  victory 
of  Austerlitz.  Paris  was  filled  with  rejoicing. 
The  bells  rang  their  merriest  peals.  The  me- 
tropolis was  refulgent  with  illuminations.  In 
these  festivities  Josephine  was  compelled  to  ap- 
pear. She  knew  that  the  sovereigns  and 
princes  then  assembled  in  Paris  were  informed 
of  her  approaching  disgrace.  In  all  these 
sounds  of  triumph  she  heard  but  the  knell  of 
her  own  doom.  And  though  a careful  observer 
would  have  detected  indications,  in  her  moist- 
ened eye  and  her  pallid  cheek,  of  the  secret 
woe  which  was  consuming  her  heart,  her  hab- 
itual affability  and  grace  never,  in  public,  for 
one  moment  forsook  her.  Hortense,  languid 
and  sorrow-stricken,  was  with  her  mother. 

Eugene  was  summoned  from  Italy.  He 
hastened  to  Paris,  and  his  first  interview  was 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  251 

with  his  mother.  From  her  saloon  he  went  di- 
rectly to  the  cabinet  of  Napoleon,  and  inquired 
of  the  emperor  if  he  had  decided  to  obtain  a 
divorce  from  the  empress.  Napoleon,  who  was 
very  strongly  attached  to  Eugene,  made  no  re- 
ply, but  pressed  his  hand  as  an  expression  that 
it  was  so.  Eugene  immediately  dropped  the 
hand  of  the  emperor,  and  said, 

“ Sire,  in  that  case,  permit  me  to  withdraw 
from  your  service/’ 

“How  !”  exclaimed  Napoleon,  looking  upon 
him  sadly  ; “ will  you,  Eugene,  my  adopted 
son,  leave  me  ? ” 

“Yes,  sir/’  Eugene  replied,  firmly;  “the 
son  of  her  who  is  no  longer  empress  cannot  re- 
main viceroy.  I will  follow  my  mother  into 
her  retreat.  She  must  now  find  her  consolation 
in  her  children.” 

Napoleon  was  not  without  feelings.  Tears 
filled  his  eyes.  In  a mournful  voice,  tremulous 
with  emotion;  he  replied,  “ Eugene,  you  know 
the  stern  necessity  which  compels  this  measure, 
and  will  you  forsake  me  ? Who,  then,  should 
I have  a son,  the  object  of  my  desires  and  pre- 
server of  my  interests,  who  would  watch  over 
the  child  when  I am  absent  ? If  I die,  who  will 
prove  to  him  a father  ? Who  will  bring  him 
up  ? Who  is  to  make  a man  of  him  ? ” 

Eugene  was  deeply  affected,  and,  taking  Na- 
poleon’s arm,  they  retired  and  conversed  a 


252 


JOSEPHINE, 


long  time  together.  The  noble  Josephine,  ever 
sacrificing  her  own  feelings  to  promote  the  hap- 
piness of  others,  urged  her  son  to  remain  the 
friend  of  Napoleon.  “ The  emperor/’  she 
said,  “is  your  benefactor — your  more  than 
father,  to  whom  you  are  indebted  for  every 
thing,  and  to  whom,  therefore,  you  owe  a 
boundless  obedience.” 

The  fatal  day  for  the  consummation  of  the 
divorce  at  length  arrived.  It  was  the  15th  of 
December,  1809.  Napoleon  had  assembled  all 
the  kings,  princes,  and  princesses  who  were 
members  of  the  imperial  family,  and  also  the 
most  illustrious  officers  of  the  empire,  in  the 
grand  saloon  of  the  Tuilleries.  Every  individ- 
ual present  was  oppressed  with  the  melancholy 
grandeur  of  the  occasion.  Napoleon  thus  ad- 
dressed them  : 

a The  political  interests  of  my  monarchy, 
the  wishes  of  my  people,  which  have  constantly 
guided  my  actions,  require  that  I should  trans- 
mit to  an  heir,  inheriting  my  love  for  the  peo- 
ple, the  throne  on  which  Providence  has  placed 
me.  For  many  years  I have  lost  all  hopes  of 
having  children  by  my  beloved  spouse,  the  Em- 
press Josephine.  It  is  this  consideration  which 
induces  me  to  sacrifice  the  sweetest  affections 
of  my  heart,  to  consult  only  the  good  of  my 
subjects,  and  to  desire  the  dissolution  of  our 
marriage.  Arrived  at  the  age  of  forty  years,  I 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  253 


may  indulge  a reasonable  hope  of  living  long 
enough  to  rear,  in  the  spirit  of  my  own  thoughts 
and  disposition,  the  children  with  which  it 
may  please  Providence  to  bless  me.  God  knows 
what  such  a determination  has  cost  my  heart  ; 
but  there  is  no  sacrifice  which  is  above  my 
courage,  when  it  is  proved  to  be  for  the  inter- 
ests of  France.  Far  from  having  any  cause  of 
complaint,  I have  nothing  to  say  but  in  praise 
of  the  attachment  and  tenderness  of  my  beloved 
wife.  She  has  embellished  fifteen  years  of  my 
life,  and  the  remembrance  of  them  will  be  for- 
ever engraven  on  my  heart.  She  was  crowned 
by  my  hand  ; she  shall  retain  always  the  rank 
and  title  of  empress.  Above  all,  let  her  never 
doubt  my  feelings,  or  regard  me  but  as  her  best 
and  dearest  friend.” 

Josephine,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  with  a 
faltering  voice,  replied,  “ I respond  to  all  the 
sentiments  of  the  emperor  in  consenting  to  the 
dissolution  of  a marriage  which  henceforth  is 
an  obstacle  to  the  happiness  of  France,  by  de- 
priving it  of  the  blessing  of  being  one  day  gov- 
erned by  the  descendants  of  that  great  man  who 
was  evidently  raised  up  by  Providence  to 
efface  the  evils  of  a terrible  revolution,  and  to 
restore  the  altar,  and  the  throne,  and  social 
order.  But  his  marriage  will  in  no  respect 
change  the  sentiments  of  my  heart.  The  em- 
peror will  ever  find  in  me  his  best  friend.  I 


254 


JOSEPHINE. 


know  what  this  act,  commanded  by  policy  and 
exalted  interests,  has  cost  his  heart,  but  we 
both  glory  in  the  sacrifices  we  make  for  the 
good  of  the  country.  I feel  elevated  in  giving 
the  greatest  proof  of  attachment  and  devotion 
that  was  ever  given  upon  earth.” 

Such  were  the  sentiments  which  were  ex- 
pressed in  public  ; but  in  private  Josephine  sur- 
rendered herself  to  the  unrestrained  dominion 
of  her  anguish.  No  language  can  depict  the 
intensity  of  her  woe.  For  six  months  she  wept 
so  incessantly  that  hex  eyes  were  nearly  blind- 
ed with  grief.  Upon  the  ensuing  day  the  coun- 
cil were  again  assembled  in  the  grand  saloon, 
to  witness  the  legal  consummation  of  the  di- 
vorce. The  emperor  entered  the  room  dressed 
in  the  imposing  robes  of  state,  but  pallid,  care- 
worn, and  wretched.  Low  tones  of  voice,  har- 
monizing with  the  mournful  scene,  filled  the 
room.  Napoleon,  apart  by  himself,  leaned 
against  a pillar,  folded  his  arms  upon  his  breast, 
and,  in  perfect  silence,  apparently  lost  in  gloomy 
thought,  remained  motionless  as  a statue.  A 
circular  table  was  placed  in  the  center  of  the 
apartment,  and  upon  this  there  was  a writing 
apparatus  of  gold.  A vacant  arm-chair  stood 
before  the  table.  Never  did  a multitude  gaze 
upon  the  scaffold,  the  block,  or  the  guillotine 
with  more  awe  than  the  assembled  lords  and 
ladies  in  this  gorgeous  saloon  contemplated 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  255 

these  instruments  of  a more  dreadful  execu- 
tion. 

At  length  the  mournful  silence  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  opening  of  a side  door  and  the 
entrance  of  Josephine.  The  pallor  of  death 
was  upon  her  brow,  and  the  submission  of 
despair  nerved  her  into  a temporary  calmness. 
She  was  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  Hortense, 
who,  not  possessing  the  fortitude  of  her  mother, 
was  entirely  unable  to  control  her  feelings. 
The  sympathetic  daughter,  immediately  upon 
entering  into  the  room,  burst  into  tears,  and 
continued  sobbing  most  convulsively  during 
the  whole  remaining  scene.  The  assembly  re- 
spectfully arose  upon  the  entrance  of  Joseph- 
ine, and  all  were  moved  to  tears.  With  that 
grace  which  ever  distinguished  her  movements, 
she  advanced  silently  to  the  seat  provided  for 
her.  Sitting  down,  and  leaning  her  forehead 
upon  her  hand,  she  listened  to  the  reading  of 
the  act  of  separation.  Nothing  disturbed  the 
sepulchral  silence  of  the  scene  but  the  con- 
vulsive sobbings  of  Hortense,  blending  with  the 
mournful  tones  of  the  reader's  voice.  Eugene, 
in  the  mean  time,  pale  and  trembling  as  an 
aspen  leaf,  had  taken  a position  by  the  side  of 
his  mother.  Silent  tears  were  trickling  down 
the  cheeks  of  the  empress. 

As  soon  as  the  reading  of  the  act  of  separa- 
tion was  finished,  Josephine  for  a moment 


256 


JOSEPHINE. 


pressed  her  handkerchief  to  her  weeping  eyes, 
and  then,  rising,  in  clear  and  musical,  but 
tremulous  tones,  pronounced  the  oath  of  ac- 
ceptance. She  then  sat  down,  took  the  pen, 
and  affixed  her  signature  to  the  deed  which 
sundered  the  dearest  hopes  and  the  fondest 
ties  which  human  hearts  can  feel.  Poor 
Eugene  could  endure  this  anguish  no  longer. 
His  brain  reeled,  his  heart  ceased  to  beat,  and 
he  fell  lifeless  upon  the  floor.  Josephine  and 
Hortense  retired  with  the  attendants  who  bore 
out  the  insensible  form  of  the  affectionate  son 
and  brother.  It  was  a fitting  termination  of 
this  mournful  but  sublime  tragedy. 

But  the  anguish  of  the  day  was  not  yet 
closed.  Josephine,  half  delirious  with  grief, 
had  another  scene  still  more  painful  to  pass 
through  in  taking  a final  adieu  of  him  who  had 
been  her  husband.  She  remained  in  her 
chamber,  in  heart-rending,  speechless  grief, 
until  the  hour  arrived  in  which  Napoleon 
usually  retired  for  the  night.  The  emperor, 
restless  and  wretched,  had  just  placed  himself 
in  the  bed  from  which  he  had  ejected  his  most 
faithful  and  devoted  wife,  and  the  attendant 
was  on  the  point  of  leaving  the  room,  when 
the  private  door  of  his  chamber  was  slowly 
opened,  and  Josephine  tremblingly  entered. 
Her  eyes  were  swollen  with  grief,  her  hair  dis- 
heveledj  and  she  appeared  in  all  the  dishabille 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  257 

of  unutterable  anguish.  She  tottered  into  the 
middle  of  the  room,  and  approached  the  bed  ; 
then,  irresolutely  stopping,  she  buried  her  face 
in  her  hands,  and  burst  into  a flood  of  tears. 
A feeling  of  delicacy  seemed  for  a moment  to 
have  arrested  her  steps — a consciousness  that 
she  had  now  no  right  to  enter  the  chamber  of 
Napoleon  ; but  in  another  moment  all  the 
pent-up  love  of  her  heart  burst  forth,  and,  for- 
getting everything  in  the  fulness  of  her  an- 
guish, she  threw  herself  upon  the  bed,  clasped 
Napoleon’s  neck  in  her  arms,  and  exclaiming, 
“My  husband!  my  husband!”  sobbed  as 
though  her  heart  were  breaking.  The  imperial 
spirit  of  Napoleon  was  for  the  moment  entirely 
vanquished,  and  he  also  wept  almost  convul- 
sively. He  assured  Josephine  of  his  love — of 
his  ardent  and  undying  love.  In  every  way  he 
tried  to  soothe  and  comfort  her,  and  for  some 
time  they  remained  locked  in  each  other’s 
embrace.  The  attendant  was  dismissed,  and 
for  an  hour  they  continued  together  in  this 
last  private  interview.  Josephine  then,  in  the 
experience  of  an  intensity  of  anguish  which 
few  hearts  have  ever  known,  parted  forever 
from  the  husband  whom  she  had  so  long,  so 
fondly,  and  so  faithfully  loved. 

After  the  empress  had  retired,  with  a deso- 
lated heart,  to  her  chamber  of  unnatural  widow- 
hood, the  attendant  entered  the  apartment  of 
*7 


258 


JOSEPHINE. 


Napoleon  to  remove  the  lights.  He  found  the 

emperor  so  buried  beneath  the  bed-clothes  as 

to  be  invisible.  Not  a word  was  uttered.  The 

\ 

lights  were  removed,  and  the  unhappy  monarch 
was  left  in  darkness  and  silence  to  the  dreadful 
companionship  of  his  own  thoughts.  The  next 
morning  the  death-like  pallor  of  his  cheek,  his 
sunken  eye,  and  the  haggard  expression  of  his 
countenance,  attested  that  the  emperor  had 
passed  the  night  in  sleeplessness  and  suffering. 

Great  as  was  the  wrong  which  Napoleon 
thus  inflicted  upon  the  noble  Josephine,  every 
one  must  be  sensible  of  a certain  kind  of  grand- 
eur which  pervades  the  tragedy.  When  we 
contemplate  the  brutal  butcheries  of  Henry 
VIII.,  as  wife  after  wife  was  compelled  to  place 
her  head  upon  the  block,  merely  to  afford  room 
for  the  indulgence  of  his  vagrant  passions  ; 
when  we  contemplate  George  IV.,  by  neglect 
and  inhumanity,  driving  Caroline  to  desper- 
ation and  to  crime,  and  polluting  the  ear  of 
the  world  with  the  revolting  story  of  sin  and 
shame;  when  we  contemplate  the  Bourbons, 
generation  after  generation,  rioting  in  volup- 
tuousness, in  utter  disregard  of  all  the  laws  of 
God  and  man,  while  we  cannot  abate  one  iota 
of  our  condemnation  of  the  great  wrong  which 
Napoleon  perpetrated,  we  feel  that  it  becomes 
the  monarchies  of  Europe  to  be  sparing  in 
their  condemnation. 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  259 

The  beautiful  palace  of  Malmaison,  which 
Napoleon  had  embellished  with  every  possible 
attraction,  and  where  the  emperor  and  empress 
had  passed  many  of  their  happiest  hours,  was 
assigned  to  Josephine  for  her  future  residence. 
Napoleon  settled  upon  her  a jointure  of  about 
six  hundred  thousand  dollars  a year.  She  was 
still  to  retain  the  title  and  the  rank  of  Empress- 
Queen. 

The  ensuing  day,  at  eleven  o'clock,  all  the 
household  of  the  Tuilleries  were  assembled  upon 
the  grand  staircase  and  in  the  vestibule,  to  wit- 
ness the  departure  of  their  beloved  mistress 
from  scenes  where  she  had  so  long  been  the 
brightest  ornament.  Josephine  descended, 
veiled  from  head  to  foot.  Her  emotions  were 
too  deep  for  utterance,  and  she  waved  an  adieu 
to  the  affectionate  and  weeping  friends  who 
surrounded  her.  A close  carriage,  with  six 
horses,  was  before  the  door.  She  entered  it, 
sank  back  upon  the  cushions,  buried  her  face 
in  her  handkerchief,  and,  sobbing  bitterly,  left 
the  Tuilleries  forever. 

Josephine  was  still  surrounded  with  all  the 
external  splendors  of  royalty.  She  was  beloved 
throughout  Prance,  and  admired  throughout 
Europe.  Napoleon  frequently  called  upon  her, 
though,  from  motives  of  delicacy,  he  never  saw 
her  alone.  He  consulted  her  respecting  all 
his  plans,  and  most  assiduously  cherished  her 


260 


JOSEPHINE. 


friendship.  It  was  soon  manifest  that  the 
surest  way  of  securing  the  favor  of  Napoleon  was 
to  pay  marked  attention  to  Josephine.  The 
palace  of  Malmaison,  consequently,  became  the 
favorite  resort  of  all  the  members  of  the  court 
of  Napoleon.  Soon  after  the  divorce,  Madame 
de  Rochefoucault,  formerly  mistress  of  the  robes 
to  Josephine,  deserting  the  forsaken  empress, 
applied  for  the  same  post  of  honor  in  the  house- 
hold of  Maria  Louisa.  Naj)oleon,  when  he 
heard  of  the  application,  promptly  and  indig- 
nantly replied,  “ She  shall  neither  retain  her 
old  situation  nor  have  the  new  one.  I am 
accused  of  ungrateful  conduct  toward  Joseph- 
ine, but  do  not  choose  to  have  any  imitators, 
more  especially  among  those  whom  she  has 
honored  with  her  confidence,  and  overwhelmed 
with  benefits.” 

Josephine  remained  for  some  time  at  Mal- 
maison.  In  deeds  of  kindness  to  the  poor  who 
surrounded  her,  in  reading,  and  in  receiving, 
with  the  utmost  elegance  of  hospitality,  the 
members  of  the  court  of  Napoleon,  who  were 
ever  crowding  her  saloons,  she  gradually  re- 
gained her  equanimity  of  spirit,  and  surren- 
dered herself  entirely  to  a quiet  and  pensive 
submission.  Napoleon  frequently  called  to  see 
her,  and,  taking  her  arm,  he  would  walk  for 
hours,  most  confidentially  unfolding  to  her  all 
his  plans.  He  seemed  to  desire  to  do  every- 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  261 

thing  in  his  power  to  alleviate  the  intensity  of 
anguish  with  which  he  had  wrung  her  heart. 
His  own  affections  clung  still  to  Josephine,  and 
her  lovely  and  noble  character  commanded,  in- 
creasingly, his  homage.  The  empress  was  very 
methodical  in  all  her  arrangements,  allotting 
to  each  hour  its  appointed  duty.  The  de- 
scription of  the  routine  of  any  one  day  would 
answer  about  equally  well  for  all. 

Ten  o’clock  in  the  morning  was  the  reception 
hour.  These  morning  parties,  attended  by  the 
most  distinguished  members  of  Parisian  soci- 
ety, none  appearing  except  in  uniform  or  in 
court,  costume,  were  always  very  brilliant. 
Some  ten  or  twelve  of  the  visitors  were  always 
previously  invited  to  remain  to  breakfast.  At 
eleven  o’clock  they  passed  from  the  saloon  to 
the  breakfast-room,  the  empress  leading,  fol- 
lowed by  her  court  according  to  their  rank,  she 
naming  those  who  were  to  sit  on  her  right  and 
left.  The  repast,  both  at  breakfast  and  dinner, 
ordinarily  consisted  of  one  course  only,  every 
thing  excepting  the  dessert  being  placed  upon 
the  table  at  once.  The  emjmess  had  five  at- 
tendants, who  stood  behind  her  chair  ; all  the 
guests  who  sat  down  with  her  had  one  each. 

Seven  officials  of  different  ranks  served  at 
the  table.  The  breakfast  usually  occupied 
three  quarters  of  an  hour,  when  the  empress, 
with  her  ladies  and  guests,  adjourned  to  the 


262 


JOSEPHINE. 


gallery,  which  contained  the  choicest  specimens 
of  painting  and  sculpture  which  the  genius  of 
Napoleon  could  select.  The  prospect  from  the 
gallery  was  very  commanding,  and,  in  entire 
freedom  from  constraint,  all  could  find  pleasant 
employment.  Some  examined  with  delight  the 
varied  works  of  art ; some,  in  the  embrasures 
of  the  windows,  looked  out  upon  the  lovely 
scenery,  and  in  subdued  tones  of  voice  engaged 
in  conversation  ; while  the  chamberlain  in  at- 
tendance read  aloud  from  some  useful  and  en- 
tertaining volume  to  Josephine,  and  those  who 
wished  to  listen  with  hers.  At  two  o’clock  the 
arrival. of  the  carriages  at  the  door  was  the 
signal  for  the  visitors  to  depart.  Three  open 
carriages,  when  the  weather  permitted,  were 
always  provided,  each  drawn  by  four  horses. 
Madame  d’Arberg,  the  lady  of  honor,  one  of  the 
ladies  in  waiting,  and  some  distinguished  guest, 
accompanied  the  empress.  Two  hours  were 
spent  in  riding,  visiting  improvements,  and  con- 
versing freely  with  the  various  employees  on  the 
estate.  The  party  then  returned  to  the  palace, 
and  all  disposed  of  their  time  as  they  pleased 
until  six  o’clock,  the  hour  of  dinner.  From 
twelve  to  fifteen  strangers  were  always  invited 
to  dine.  After  dinner  the  evening  was  devoted 
to  relaxation,  conversation,  backgammon,  and 
other  games.  The  young  ladies,  of  whom  there 
were  always  many  whom  Josephine  retained 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  263 


around  her,  usually,  in  the  course  of  the  even- 
ing, withdrew  from  the  drawing-room  to  a 
smaller  saloon  opening  from  it  where,  with 
unrestrained  glee,  they  engaged  in  mirthful 
sports,  or,  animated  by  the  music  of  the  piano, 
mingled  in  the  dance.  Sometimes,  in  the  buoy- 
ancy of  youthful  joy,  they  forgot  the  demands 
of  etiquette,  and  somewhat  incommoded,  by 
their  merry  laughter,  the  more  grave  company 
in  the  grand  apartment.  The  lady  of  honor 
would,  on  such  occasions,  hint  at  the  necessity 
of  repressing  the  mirth.  Josephine  would  in- 
variably interpose  in. their  behalf.  “ My  dear 
Madame  d’Arberg,”  she  would  say,  “ suffer 
both  them  and  us  to  enjoy,  while  we  may,  all 
that  innocent  happiness  which  comes  from  the 
heart,  and  which  penetrates  the  heart. ” At 
eleven  o'clock,  tea,  ices,  and  sweetmeats  were 
served,  and  then  the  visitors  took  their  leave. 
Josephine  sat  up  an  hour  later  conversing  most 
freely  and  confidentially  with  those  friends  who 
were  especially  dear  to  her,  and  about  midnight 
retired. 

In  the  month  of  March,  1810,  Maria  Louisa 
arrived  in  Paris,  and  her  marriage  with  Napo- 
leon was  celebrated  with  the  utmost  splendor  at 
St.  Cloud.  All  France  resounded  with  rejoic- 
ing as  Napoleon  led  his  youthful  bride  into  the 
Tuilleries,  from  whence,  but  three  months  be- 
fore, Josephine  had  been  so  cruelly  ejected. 


264 


JOSEPHINE. 


The  booming  of  the  cannon,  the  merry  pealing 
of  the  bells,  the  acclamations  of  the  populace, 
fell  heavily  upon  the  heart  of  Josephine.  She 
tried  to  conceal  her  anguish,  but  her  pallid 
cheek  and  swimming  eye  revealed  the  severity 
of  her  sufferings. 

Napoleon  continued,  however,  the  frequency 
of  his  correspondence,  and,  notwithstanding  the 
jealousy  of  Maria  Louisa,  did  not  at  all  intermit 
his  visits.  In  a little  more  than  a year  after 
his  marrirge  the  King  of  Rome  was  born. 
The  evening  in  which  Josephine  received  the 
tidings  of  his  birth,  she  wrote  an  affectionate 
and  touching  letter  to  Napoleon,  congratulating 
him  upon  the  event.  This  letter  reveals  so 
conspicuously  the  magnanimity  of  her  princi- 
ples, and  yet  the  feminine  tenderness  of  her 
bleeding  heart,  that  we  cannot  refrain  from  in- 
serting it.  It  was  dated  at  Navarre,  at  mid- 
night, the  20th  of  March,  1811. 

“ Sire, — Amid  the  numerous  felicitations 
which  you  receive  from  every  corner  of  Europe, 
from  all  the  cities  of  France,  and  from  each 
regiment  of  your  army,  can  the  feeble  voice  of  a 
woman  reach  your  ear,  and  will  you  deign  to 
listen  to  her  who  so  often  consoled  your  sorrows, 
and  sweetened  your  pains,  now  that  she  speaks 
to  you  only  of  that  happiness  in  which  all  your 
wishes  are  fulfilled  ? Having  ceased  to  be  your 
wife,  dare  I felicitate  you  on  becoming  a father? 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  265 

Yes,  sire,  without  hesitation,  for  my  soul  renders 
justice  to  yours,  in  like  manner  as  you  know 
mine.  I can  conceive  every  emotion  you  must 
experience,  as  you  divine  all  that  I feel  at  this 
moment,  and,  though  separated,  we  are  united 
by  that  sympathy  which  survives  all  events. 

“ I should  have  desired  to  have  learned  the 
birth  of  the  King  of  Rome  from  yourself,  and 
not  from  the  sound  of  the  cannon  of  Evreux,  or 
from  the  courier  of  the  prefect.  I know,  how- 
ever, that,  in  preference  to  all,  your  first  atten- 
tions are  due  to  the  public  authorities  of  the  state, 
to  the  foreign  ministers,  to  your  family,  and 
specially  to  the  fortunate  princess  who  has 
realized  your  dearest  hopes.  She  cannot  be 
more  tenderly  devoted  to  you  than  I am.  But 
she  has  been  enabled  to  contribute  more  toward 
your  happiness  by  securing  that  of  Prance.  She 
has,  then,  a right  to  your  first  feelings,  to  all 
your  cares,  and  I,  who  was  but  your  companion 
in  times  of  difficulty — I cannot  ask  more  than 
for  a place  in  your  affections  far  removed  from 
that  occupied  by  the  empress,  Maria  Louisa. 
Not  till  you  have  ceased  to  watch  by  her  bed — not 
till  you  are  weary  of  embracing  your  son,  will 
you  take  the  pen  to  converse  with  your  best 
friend.  I will  wait. 

“ Meanwhile,  it  is  not  possible  for  me  to  delay 
telling  you  that,  more  than  any  one  in  the 
world,  do  I rejoice  in  your  joy.  And  you  will 


266 


JOSEPHINE. 


not  doubt  my  sincerity  when  I hear  say  that, 
far  from  feeling  an  affliction  at  a sacrifice  neces- 
sary for  the  repose  of  all,  I congratulate  myself 
on  having  made  it,  since  I now  suffer  alone. 
But  I am  wrong  ; I do  not  suffer  while  you  are 
happy,  and  I have  but  one  regret,  in  not  having 
yet  done  enough  to  prove  how  dear  you  were  to 
me.  I have  no  account  of  the  health  of  the 
empress.  I dare  to  depend  upon  you,  sire,  so 
far  as  to  hope  that  I shall  have  circumstantial 
details  of  the  great  event  which  secures  the 
perpetuity  of  the  name  you  have  so  nobly  illus- 
trated. Eugene  and  Hortense  will  write  me, 
imparting  their  own  satisfaction  ; but  it  is  from 
you  that  I desire  to  know  if  your  child  be  well, 
if  he  resembles  you,  if  I shall  one  day  be  per- 
mitted to  see  him.  In  short,  I expect  from  you 
unlimited  confidence,  and  upon  such  I have 
some  claims,  in  consideration,  sire,  of  the 
boundless  attachment  I shall  cherish  for  you 
while  life  remains.” 

She  had  but  just  despatched  this  letter  to 
Napoleon,  when  the  folding-doors  were  thrown 
open  with  much  state,  and  the  announcement, 
“ From  the  emperor,”  ushered  in  a page,  the 
bearer  of  a letter.  The  fragile  and  beautiful 
youth,  whom  Josephine  immediately  recognized, 
had  so  carefully  secured  the  emperor’s  billet, 
from  fear  of  losing  it,  that  it  took  some  time  for 
him,  in  his  slight  embarrassment,  to  extricate 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  267 


it.  Josephine  was  almost  nervously  excited  till 
she  received  the  note,  and  immediately  retired 
with  it  to  her  own  private  apartment.  Half 
an  hour  elapsed  before  she  again  made  her 
appearance.  Her  whole  countenance  attested 
the  intensity  of  the  conflicting  emotions  with 
which  her  soul  had  been  agitated.  Her  eyes 
were  swollen  with  weeping,  and  the  billet,  which 
she  still  held  in  her  hands,  was  blurred  with  her 
tears.  She  gave  the  page  a letter  to  the  emperor 
in  reply,  and  then  presented  him,  as  an  acknowl- 
edgment of  her  appreciation  of  the  tidings  he 
had  brought,  with  a small  morocco  case,  con- 
taining a diamond  breastpin,  and  a thousand 
dollars  in  gold. 

She  then,  with  a tremulous  voice,  and  smil- 
ing through  her  tears,  read  the  emperor’s  note 
to  her  friends.  The  concluding  words  of  the 
note  were,  “ This  infant,  in  concert  with  our 
Eugene , will  constitute  my  happiness  and  that 
of  France.”  As  Josephine  read  these  words 
with  emphasis,  she  exclaimed.  “ It  is  possible 
to  be  more  amiable  ! Could  anything  be  bet- 
ter calculated  to  soothe  whatever  might  be 
painful  in  my  thoughts  at  this  moment,  did  I 
not  so  sincerely  love  the  emperor  ? This  unit- 
ing of  my  son  with  his  own  is  indeed  worthy  of 
him  who,  when  he  wills,  is  the  most  delightful 
of  men.  This  is  it  which  has  so  much  moved 
me.” 


2H8 


JOSEPHINE. 


The  emperor  often  afterward  called  upon  her. 
He  soon,  notwithstanding  the  jealousy  of  Ma- 
ria Louisa,  arranged  a plan  by  which  he  pre- 
sented to  Josephine,  in  his  own  arms,  the  idol- 
ized child.  These  interviews,  so  gratifying  to 
Josephine,  took  place  at  the  Royal  Pavilion, 
near  Paris,  Napoleon  and  Madame  Montesquieu, 
governess  to  the  young  prince,  being  the  only 
confidants.  In  one  of  Josephine’s  letters  to  Na- 
poleon, she  says,  “The  moment  I saw  you  en- 
ter, leading  the  young  Napoleon  in  your  hand, 
was  unquestionably  one  of  the  happiest  of  my 
life.  It  effaced,  for  a time,  the  recollection 
of  all  that  had  preceded  it,  for  never  have  I 
received  from  you  a more  touching  mark  of 
affection.” 

The  apartment  at  Malmaison  which  Napo- 
leon had  formerly  occupied  remained  exactly 
as  it  was  when  he  last  left  it.  Josephine  her- 
self kept  the  key,  and  dusted  the  room  with  her 
own  hands.  She  would  not  permit  a single 
article  of  furniture  to  be  moved.  The  book  he 
was  last  reading  lay  open  upon  the  table,  the 
map  he  was  consulting,  the  pen  with  which  he 
wrote,  the  articles  of  clothing  which  he  had  left 
in  his  accustomed  disorder,  all  remained  un- 
touched. Josephine's  bed-chamber  was  very 
simply  furnished  with  white  muslin  drapery, 
the  only  ornament  being  the  golden  toilet  serv- 
ice which  she  had  received  from  the  municipal- 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  269 


ity  of  Paris,  and  which,  with  characteristic 
generosity,  she  refused  to  consider  as  her  own 
private  property  until  Napoleon  sent  it  to  her. 
The  following  letter  from  Josephine,  written  at 
this  time,  pleasingly  illustrates  her  literary  pol- 
ish and  the  refinement  of  her  taste.  It  was  ad- 
dressed to  the  superintendent,  ordering  some 
alterations  at  Malmaison. 

w Profit  by  my  absence,  dear  F.,  and  make 
haste  to  dismantle  the  pavilion  of  the  acacias, 
and  to  transfer  my  boudoir  into  that  of  the 
orangery.  I should  wish  the  first  apartment  of 
the  suite,  and  which  serves  for  an  ante-room,  to 
be  painted  with  light  green,  with  a border  of 
lilacs.  In  the  center  of  the  panels  you  will 
place  my  fine  engravings  from  Esther,  and  un- 
der each  of  these  a portrait  of  the  distinguished 
generals  of  the  Revolution.  In  the  center  of 
the  apartment  there  must  be  a large  flower-stand, 
constantly  filled  with  fresh  flowers  in  their  sea- 
son, and  in  each  angle  a bust  of  a French  phi- 
losopher. I particularly  mention  that  of  Rous- 
seau, which  place  between  the  two  windows, 
so  that  the  vines  and  foliage  may  play  around 
his  head.  This  will  be  a natural  crown  worthy 
of  the  author  of  Emile.  As  to  my  private 
cabinet,  let  it  be  colored  light  blue,  with  a 
border  of  ranunculus  and  polyanthus.  Ten 
large  engravings  from  the  Gallery  of  the  Mu- 
see,  and  twenty  medallions,  v ill  fill  up  the 


270 


JOSEPHINE. 


panels.  Let  the  casements  be  painted  white 
and  green,  with  double  fillets,  gilded.  My 
piano,  a green  sofa,  and  two  couches  with  cor- 
responding covers,  a secretaire,  a small  bureau, 
and  a large  toilet-glass,  are  articles  you  will  not 
forget.  In  the  center,  place  a large  table, 
always  covered  with  freshly-gathered  flowers, 
and  upon  the  mantel-shelf  a simple  pendule, 
two  alabaster  vases,  and  double-branched  giran- 
doles. Unite  elegance  to  variety,  but  no  pro- 
fusion. Nothing  is  more  opposed  to  good  taste-. 
In  short,  I confide  to  you  the  care  of 'rendering 
this  cherished  spot  an  agreeable  retreat,  where 
I may  meditate,  sleep  it  may  be,  but  oftenest 
read,  which  last  is  sufficient  to  remind  you 
of  three  hundred  volumes  of  my  small  edi- 
tion. ” 

When  Josephine  first  retired  to  Malmaison, 
where  everything  reminded  her  of  the  em- 
peror, her  grief  for  many  months  continued  un- 
abated. To  divert  her  attention,  Napoleon  con- 
ferred upon  her  the  palace  of  Navarre.  This 
was  formerly  a royal  residence,  and  was  re- 
nowned for  its  magnificent  park.  During  the 
Revolution  it  had  become  much  dilapidated. 
The  elegant  chateau  was  situated  in  the  midst 
of  the  romantic  forest  of  Evreux.  The  spacious 
grounds  were  embellished  by  parks,  whose  ven- 
erable trees  had  withstood  the  stohns  of  centu- 
ries, and  by  beautiful  streams  and  crystal  lakes 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS*  271 

The  emperor  gave  Josephine  nearly  three  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  to  repair  the  buildings  and 
the  grounds.  The  taste  of  Josephine  soon  con- 
verted the  scene  into  almost  a terrestrial  Eden, 
and  Navarre,  being  far  more  retired  than  Mal- 
maison,  became  her  favorite  residence. 

Soon  after  Josephine  had  taken  up  her  resi- 
dence at  Navarre,  she  wrote  the  following  letter 
to  Napoleon,  which  pleasingly  illustrates  the 
cordiality  of  friendship  which  still  existed  be- 
tween them  : 

“ Sire, — I received  this  morning  the  welcome 
note  which  was  written  on  the  eve  of  your  de- 
parture for  St.  Cloud,  and  hasten  to  reply  to  its 
tender  and  affectionate  contents.  These,  in- 
deed, do  not  in  themselves  surprise  me,  but  only 
as  being  received  so  early  as  fifteen  days  after 
my  establishment  here,  so  perfectly  assured  was 
I that  your  attachment  would  search  out  the 
means  of  consoling  me  under  a separation  nec- 
essary to  the  tranquillity  of  both.  The  thought 
that  your  care  follows  me  into  my  retreat  ren- 
ders it  almost  agreeable. 

“ After  having  known  all  the  rapture  of  a 
love  that  is  shared,  and  all  the  suffering  of  a 
love  that  is  shared  no  longer — after  having  ex- 
hausted all  the  pleasures  that  supreme  power 
can  confer,  and  all  the  happiness  of  beholding 
the  man  whom  I loved  enthusiastically  admired, 
is  there  aught  else,  save  repose,  to  be  desired  ? 


272 


JOSEPHINE. 


What  illusions  can  now  remain  for  me  ? All 
such  vanished  when  it  became  necessary  to  re- 
nounce you.  Thus  the  only  ties  which  yet 
bind  me  to  life  are  my  sentiments  for  you,  at- 
tachment for  my  children,  the  possibility  of  still 
being  able  to  do  some  good,  and,  above  all,  the 
assurance  that  you  are  happy.  Do  not,  then, 
condole  with  me  on  my  being  here,  distant 
from  a court,  which  you  appear  to  think  I 
regret.  Surrounded  by  those  who  are  attached 
to  me,  free  to  follow  my  taste  for  the  arts,  I 
lind  myself  better  at  Navarre  than  anywhere 
else,  for  I enjoy  more  completely  the  society  of 
the  former,  and  form  a thousand  projects  which 
may  prove  useful  to  the  latter,  and  which  will 
embellish  the  scenes  I owe  to  your  bounty. 
There  is  much  to  be  done  here,  for  all  around 
are  discovered  the  traces  of  destruction.  These 
I would  efface,  that  there  may  exist  no  memo- 
rial of  those  horrible  inflictions  which  your 
genius  has  taught  the  nation  almost  to  forget. 
In  repairing  whatever  these  ruffians  of  revolu- 
tion labored  to  annihilate,  I shall  diffuse  com- 
fort around  me,  and  the  benedictions  of  the 
poor  will  afford  me  infinitely  more  pleasure 
than  the  feigned  adulation  of  courtiers. 

“ I have  already  told  you  what  I think  of  the 
functionaries  in  this  department,  but  have  not 
spoken  sufficiently  of  the  respectable  bishop, 
M.  Boulier.  Every  day  I learn  some  new  trait 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  273 


which  causes  me  still  more  highly  to  esteem  the 
man  who  unites  the  most  enlightened  benevo- 
lence with  the  most  amiable  disposition.  He 
shall  be  intrusted  with  distributing  my  alms- 
deeds  in  Evreux,  and,  as  he  visits  the  indigent 
himself,  I shall  be  assured  that  my  charities  are 
properly  bestowed. 

“ I cannot  sufficiently  thank  you,  sire,  for 
the  liberty  you  have  permitted  me  of  choosing 
the  members  of  my  household,  all  of  whom  con- 
tribute to  the  pleasure  of  a delightful  society. 
One  circumstance  alone  gives  me  pain,  namely, 
the  etiquette  of  costume,  which  becomes  a little 
tiresome  in  the  country.  You  fear  that  there 
may  be  something  wanting  to  the  rank  I have 
preserved  should  a slight  infraction  be  allowed 
to  the  toilet  of  those  gentlemen  ; but  I believe 
that  you  are  wrong  in  thinking  they  would  for 
one  moment  forget  the  respect  due  to  the  woman 
who  was  once  your  companion.  Their  respect 
for  yourself,  joined  to  the  sincere  attachment 
they  bear  to  me,  which  I cannot  doubt,  secures 
me  from  the  danger  of  ever  being  obliged  to  re- 
call what  it  is  your  wish  that  they  should  re- 
member. My  most  honorable  title  is  derived, 
not  from  having  Deen  crowned,  but  assuredly 
from  having  been  chosen  by  you.  None  other 
is  of  value.  That  alone  suffices  for  my  immor* 
tality. 

circle  is  at  this  time  somewhat  more 


274 


JOSEPHINE. 


numerous  than  usual,  there  being  several  visit- 
ors, besides  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  Evreux 
and  the  environs,  whom  I see  of  course.  I am 
pleased  with  their  manners,  with  their  admira- 
tion of  you,  a particular  in  which  you  know 
that  I am  not  easily  satisfied.  In  short,  I find 
myself  perfectly  at  home  in  the  midst  of  my 
forest,  and  entreat  you,  sire,  no  longer  to  fancy 
to  yourself  that  there  is  no  living  at  a distance 
from  court.  Besides  you,  there  is  nothing  there 
which  I regret,  since  I shall  have  my  children 
with  me  soon,  and  already  enjoy  the  society  of 
the  small  number  of  friends  who  remained  faith- 
ful to  me.  Do  not  forget  your  friend . Tell 
her  sometimes  that  you  preserve  for  her  an  at- 
tachment which  constitutes  the  felicity  of  her 
life.  Often  repeat  to  her  that  you  are  happy, 
and  be  assured  that  for  her  the  future  will  thus 
be  peaceful,  as  the  past  has  been  stormy,  and 
often  sad.” 

Just  before  Napoleon  set  out  on  his  fatal  cam- 
paign to  Russia,  he  called  to  see  Josephine. 
Seated  upon  a circular  bench  in  the  garden,  be- 
fore the  windows  of  the  saloon,  where  they  could 
both  be  seen  but  not  overheard,  they  continued 
for  two  hours  engaged  most  earnestly  in  con- 
versation. Josephine  was  apparently  endeavor- 
ing to  dissuade  him  from  the  perilous  enterprise. 
His  perfect  confidence,  however,  seemed  to  as- 
sure her  that  her  apprehensions  were  ground- 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS. 


275 


less.  At  last  lie  arose  and  kissed  her  hand.  She 
accompanied  him  to  his  carriage,  and  bade  him 
adieu.  This  was  their  last  interview  but  one. 
Soon  Napoleon  returned,  a fugitive  from  Mos- 
cow. Days  of  disaster  were  darkening  around 
his  path.  All  Europe  had  risen  in  arms  against 
him,  and  were  on  the  march  toward  his  capital. 
In  the  midst  of  the  terror  of  those  dreadful  days, 
he  sought  a hurried  interview  with  his  most 
faithful  friend.  It  was  their  last  meeting.  As 
he  was  taking  his  leave  of  Josephine,  at  the  close 
of  this  short  and  melancholy  visit,  he  gazed  upon 
her  a moment  in  silence,  tenderly  and  sadly,  and 
then  said,  “Josephine  ! I have  been  as  fortunate 
as  was  ever  man  on  the  face  of  this  earth.  But, 
in  this  hour,  when  a storm  is  gathering  over 
my  head,  I have  not,  in  this  wide  world,  any  one 
but  you  upon  whom  I can  repose.” 

In  the  fearful  conflict  which  ensued — the 
most  terrible  which  history  has  recorded — Napo- 
leon^ thoughts  ever  reverted  to  the  wife  of  his 
youth.  He  kept  up  an  almost  daily  correspond- 
ence with  her,  informing  her  of  the  passing 
of  events.  His  letters,  written  in  the  midst  of 
all  the  confusion  of  the  camp,  were  more  affec- 
tionate and  confiding  than  ever.  Adversity  had 
softened  his  heart.  In  these  dark  days,  when, 
with  most  Herculean  power,  he  was  struggling 
against  fearful  odds,  and  his  throne  was  crum- 
bling beneath  his  feet,  it  was  observed  that  & 


276 


JOSEPHINE. 


letter  from  Josephine  was  rather  torn  than 
broken  open,  so  great  was  the  eagerness  of  Napo- 
leon receive  a line  from  her.  Wherever  he 
was,  however  great  the  emergency  in  which  he 
was  placed,  the  moment  a courier  brought  to: 
him  a letter  from  Josephine,  all  other  business 
was  laid  aside  until  it  had  been  read. 

The  allied  armies  were  every  day  approach- 
ing nearer  and  nearer  to  Paris,  and  Josephine 
was  overwhelmed  with  grief  in  contemplating 
the  disasters  which  were  falling  upon  Napoleon. 
At  Malmaison,  Josephine  and  the  ladies  of  her 
court  were  employed  in  forming  bandages  and 
scraping  lint  for  the  innumerable  wounded  who 
filled  the  hospitals.  The  conflicting  armies  ap- 
proached so  near  to  Malmaison  that  it  became 
dangerous  for  Josephine  to  remain  there,  and, 
in  great  apprehension,  she  one  morning,  at  eight 
o'clock,  took  her  carriage  for  Navarre.  Two 
or  three  times  on  the  road  she  was  alarmed  by 
the  cry,  “ Cossacks  ! Cossacks  ! ” When  she 
had  proceeded  about  thirty  miles,  the  pole  of 
her  carriage  broke,  and  at  the  same  time  a troop 
of  horsemen  appeared  in  the  distance,  riding 
down  upon  her.  They  were  French  hussars  ; 
but  Josephine  thought  that  they  were  either 
Cossacks  or  Prussians,  and,  though  the  rain  was 
falling  in  torrents,  in  her  terror  she  leaped  from 
the  carriage,  and  began  to  fly  across  the  fields. 
She  had  proceeded  some  distance  before  her  at- 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  277 

tendants  discovered  the  mistake.  The  carriage 
being  repaired,  she  proceeded  the  rest  of  her 
way  unmolested.  The  empress  hardly  uttered 
a word  during  this  melancholy  journey,  but 
upon  entering  the  palace  she  threw  herself  upon 
a couch,  exclaming,  “ Surely,  surely  Bonaparte 
is  ignorant  of  what  is  passing  within  sight  of 
the  gates  of  Paris,  or,  if  he  knows,  how  cruel 
the  thoughts  which  must  now  agitate  his  breast ! 
Oh  ! if  he  had  listened  to  me.” 

Josephine  remained  for  some  days  at  Navarre, 
in  a state  of  most  painful  anguish  respecting 
the  fate  of  the  emperor.  She  allowed  herself 
no  relaxation,  excepting  a solitary  ride  each 
morning  in  the  park,  and  another  short  ride 
after  dinner  with  one  of  her  ladies.  The  Em- 
peror Alexander  had  immediately  sent  a guard 
of  honor  to  protect  Josephine  from  all  intrusion. 
Hundreds  of  thousands  of  soldiers  were  swarm- 
ing in  all  directions,  and  every  dwelling  was 
filled  with  terror  and  distraction.  One  melan- 
choly incident;  we  will  record,  illustrative  of 
hundreds  which  might  be  narrated.  Lord 
Londonderry,  in  the  midst  of  a bloody  skirmish, 
saw  a young  and  beautiful  French  lady,  the 
wife  of  a colonel,  in  a caleche,  seized  by  three 
brutal  Russian  soldiers,  who  were  carrying  off, 
into  the  fields,  their  frantic  and  shrieking 
victim.  The  gallant  Englishman,  sword  in 
hand,  rushed  forward  for  her  deliverance  from 


278 


JOSEPHINE. 


his  barbarian  allies.  He  succeeded  in  rescuing 
her,  and,  in  the  confusion  of  the  battle  still 
raging,  ordered  a dragoon  to  take  her  to  his  : 
own  quarters  till  she  could  be  provided  with  ! 
suitable  protection.  The  dragoon  took  the  lady, 
half  dead  with  terror,  upon  his  horse  behind 
him  and  was  galloping  with  her  to  a place  of 
safety,  when  another  ruffian  band  of  Cossacks 
surrounded  him,  pierced  his  body  with  their 
sabers,  and  seized  again  the  unhappy  victim. 
She  was  never  heard  of  more.  The  Emperor 
Alexander  was  greatly  distressed  at  her  fate, 
and  made  the  utmost,  though  unavailing  efforts 
to  discover  what  had  become  of  her.  The  rev- 
elations of  the  last  day  alone  can  divulge  the 
horrors  of  this  awful  tragedy. 

The  grief  of  Josephine  in  these  days  of  anxi- 
ety was  intense  in  the  extreme.  She  passed 
her  whole  time  in  talking  about  Napoleon,  or 
in  reading  the  letters  she  had  lately  received 
from  him.  He  wrote  frequently,  as  he  escaped 
from  place  to  place,  but  many  of  his  letters 
were  intercepted  by  the  bands  of  soldiers  trav- 
ersing every  road.  The  last  she  had  received 
from  him  was  dated  at  Brienne.  It  gave  an 
account  of  a desperate  engagement,  in  which 
the  little  band  of  Napoleon  had  been  over- 
whelmed by  numbers,  and  was  concluded  with 
the  following  affecting  words  : ct  On  beholding 
those  scenes  where  I had  passed  my  boyhood, 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  279 

and  comparing  my  peaceful  condition  then 
with  the  agitation  and  terrors  which  I now  ex- 
perience, I several  times  said,  in  my  own  mind, 
I have  sought  to  meet  death  in  many  conflicts  ; 
I can  no  longer  fear  it.  To  me  death  would 
now  be  a blessing.  But  I would  once  more  see 
Josephine.” 

Notwithstanding  the  desperate  state  of  affairs, 
Josephine  still  cherished  the  hope  that  his  com- 
manding genius  would  yet  enable  him  to  re- 
trieve his  fortunes.  All  these  hopes  were,  how- 
ever, dispelled  on  the  receipt  of  the  following 
letter  : 

“Fontainebleau,  April  16,  1814. 

“ Dear  Josephine, — I wrote  to  you  on  the 
eighth  of  this  month,  but  perhaps  you  have  not 
received  my  letter.  Hostilities  still  continued, 
and  possibly  it  may  have  been  intercepted.  At 
present  the  communications  must  be  re-estab- 
lished. I have  formed  my  resolution.  I have 
no  doubt  that  this  billet  will  reach  you.  I will 
not  repeat  what  I said  to  you.  Then  I lament- 
ed my  situation,  now  I congratulate  myself 
upon  it.  My  head  and  spirit  are  freed  from  an 
enormous  weight.  My  fall  is  great,  but  it  may, 
as  men  say,  prove  useful.  In  my  retreat  I shall 
substitute  the  pen  for  the  sword.  The  history 
of  my  reign  will  be  curious.  The  world  has 
yet  seen  me  only  in  profile.  I shall  show  my- 


280  ' ' JOSEPHINE. 

self  in  full.  How  many  things  have  I to  dis- 
close ! how  ipany  are  the  men  of  whom  a false 
estimate  is  entertained  ! I have  heaped  bene- 
fits upon  millions  of  wretches  ! What  have  they 
done  in  the  end  for  me  ? They  have  all  be- 
trayed me — yes,  all.  I except  from  this  number 
the  good  Eugene,  so  worthy  of  you  and  of  me. 
Adieu  ! my  dear  Josephine.  Be  resigned  as  I 
am,  and  never  forget  him  who  never  forgot,  and 
never  will  forget  you.  Farewell,  Josephine. 

“ Napoleon. 

“P.S. — I expect  to  hear  from  you  at  Elba. 
I am  not  very  well." 

Upon  reading  these  tidings  of  so  terrible  an 
overthrow,  Josephine  was  overwhelmed  with 
grief,  and  for  a time  wept  bitterly.  Soon,  how- 
ever, recovering  her  self-possession,  she  ex- 
claimed, “ I must  not  remain  here.  My  pres- 
ence is  necessary  to  the  emperor.  That  duty 
is,  indeed,  more  Maria  Louisa’s  than  mine,  but 
the  emperor  is  alone — forsaken.  Well,  I at 
least  will  not  abandon  him.  I might  be  dis- 
pensed with  while  he  was  happy  ; now,  I am 
sure  that  he  expects  me.”  After  a pause  of  a 
few  moments,  in  which  she  seemed  absorbed  in 
her  own  thoughts,  she  addressed  her  chamber- 
lain,  saying,  “ I may,  however,  interfere  with 
his  arrangements.  You  will  remain  here  with 
me  till  intelligence  be  received  from  the  allied 


THE  DIVOCtOE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  281 


sovereigns  ; they  will  respect  her  who  was  the 
wife  of  Napoleon/" 

She  was  indeed  remembered  by  them.  The 
magnanimity  of  her  conduct  under  the  deep 
wrongs  of  the  divorce  had  filled  Europe  with 
admiration.  The  allied  sovereigns  sent  her  as- 
surances of  their  most  friendly  regards.  They 
entreated  her  to  return  to  Malmaison,  and  pro- 
vided her  with  an  ample  guard  for  her  protec- 
tion. Her  court  was  ever  crowded  with  the 
most  illustrious  monarchs  and  nobles,  who 
sought  a presentation  to  do  homage  to  her  vir- 
tues. The  Emperor  Alexander  was  one  of  the 
first  to  visit  her.  He  said  to  her  on  that  occa- 
sion, “ Madam,  I burned  with  the  desire  of  be- 
holding you.  Since  I entered  Prance,  1 have 
never  heard  your  name  pronounced  but  with 
benedictions.  In  the  cottage  and  in  the  palace 
I have  collected  accounts  of  your  angelic  good- 
ness, and  I do  myself  a pleasure  in  thus  pre- 
senting to  your  majesty  the  universal  homage 
of  which  I am  the  bearer/" 

Maria  Louisa,  thinking  only  of  self,  declined 
accompanying  Napoleon  to  his  humble  retreat. 
Josephine,  not  knowing  her  decision,  wrote  to 
the  emperor  : “ Now  only  can  I calculate  the 
whole  extent  of  the  misfortune  of  having  beheld 
my  union  with  you  dissolved  by  law.  Now  do 
I indeed  lament  being  no  more  than  your  friend , 
who  can  but  mourn  over  a misfortune  great  as 


282 


JOSEPHINE. 


it  is  unexpected.  Ah  ! sire,  why  can  I not  fly 
to  you  ? Why  can  I not  give  you  the  assur- 
ance that  exile  has  no  terrors  save  for  vulgar 
minds,  and  that,  far  from  diminishing  a sincere 
attachment,  misfortune  imparts  to  it  a new 
force  ? I have  been  upon  the  point  of  quitting 
France  to  follow  your  footsteps,  and  to  conse- 
crate to  you  the  remainder  of  an  existence 
which  you  so  long  embellished.  A single  motive 
restrained  me,  and  that  you  may  divine.  If  I 
learn  that  I am  the  only  one  who  will  fulfil  her 
duty,  nothing  shall  detain  me,  and  I will  go  to 
the  only  place  where,  henceforth,  there  can  be 
happiness  for  me,  since  I shall  be  able  to  con- 
sole you  when  you  are  there  isolated  and  un- 
fortunate ! Say  but  the  word,  and  I depart. 
Adieu,  sire  ; whatever  I would  add  would  still 
be  too  little.  It  is  no  longer  by  ivords  that  my 
sentiments  for  you  are  to  be  proved,  and  for 
actions  your  consent  is  necessary.” 

A few  days  after  this  letter  was  written,  the 
Emperor  Alexander,  with  a number  of  illustri- 
ous guests,  dined  with  Josephine  atMalmaison. 
In  the  evening  twilight,  the  party  went  out 
upon  the  beautiful  lawn  in  front  of  the  house 
for  recreation.  Josephine,  whose  health  had 
become  exceedingly  precarious  through  care 
and  sorrow,  being  regardless  of  herself  in  de- 
votion to  her  friends,  took  a violent  cold.  The 
next  day  she  was  worse.  Without  any  very 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  283 

definite  form  of  disease,  she  day  after  day  grew 
more  faint  and  feeble,  until  it  was  evident  that 
her  final  change  was  near  at  hand.  Eugene 
and  Hortense,  her  most  affectionate  children, 
were  with  her  by  day  and  by  night.  They 
communicated  to  her  the  judgment  of  her  phy- 
sician that  death  was  near.  She  heard  the 
tidings  with  perfect  composure,  and  called  for 
a clergyman  to  administer  to  her  the  last  rites 
of  religion. 

Just  after  this  solemnity  the  Emperor  Alex- 
ander entered  the  room.  Eugene  and  Hortense, 
bathed  in  tears,  were  kneeling  at  their  mother’s 
side.  Josephine  beckoned  to  the  emperor  to 
approach  her,  and  said  to  him  and  her  children, 
“ I have  always  desired  the  happiness  of  France. 
I did  all  in»my  power  to  contribute  to  it ; and 
I can  say  with  truth,  to  all  of  you  now  present, 
at  my  last  moments,  that  the  first  wife  of  Na- 
poleon never  caused  a single  tear  to  flow.” 

She  called  for  the  portrait  of  the  emperor  ; 
she  gazed  upon  it  long  and  tenderly  ; and  then, 
fervently  pressing  it  in  her  clasped  hands  to 
her  bosom,  faintly  articulated  the  following 
prayer  : 

“ 0 God  ! watch  over  Napoleon  while  he  re- 
mains in  the  desert  of  this  world.  Alas  ! though 
he  hath  committed  great  faults,  hath  he  not 
expiated  them  by  great  sufferings  ? Just  God, 
thou  hast  looked  into  his  heart,  and  hast  seen 


284'  ' JOSEPHINE. 

by  how  ardent  a desire  for  useful  and  durable 
improvements  he  was  animated.  Deign  to  ap- 
prove my  last  petition.  And  may  this  image 
of  my  husband  bear  me  witness  that  my  latest 
wish  and  my  latest  prayer  were  for  him  and 
my  children.” 

It  was  the  29th  of  May,  1814.  A tranquil 
summer’s  day  was  fading  away  into  a cloudless, 
serene,  and  beautiful  evening.  The  rays  of  the 
setting  sun,  struggling  through  the  foliage  of 
the  open  window,  shone  cheerfully  upon  the  bed 
where  the  empress  was  dying.  The  vesper  songs 
of  the  birds  which  filled  the  groves  of  Malmaison 
floated  sweetly  upon  the  ear,  and  the  gentle 
spirit  of  Josephine,  lulled  to  repose  by  these 
sweet  anthems,  sank  into  its  last  sleep.  Gazing 
upon  the  portrait  of  the  emperor,  she  ex- 
claimed, “ I/isle  d'Elbe— Napoleon  ! ” and 
died. 

Alexander,  as  he  gazed  upon  her  lifeless  re- 
mains, burst  into  tears,  and  uttered  the  follow- 
ing affecting  yet  just  tribute  of  respect  to  her 
memory  : “ She  is  no  more  ; that  woman  whom 
France  named  the  beneficent,  that  angel  of 
goodness,  is  no  more.  Those  who  have  known 
Josephine  can  never  forget  her.  She  dies  re- 
gretted by  her  offspring,  her  friends,  and  her 
cotemporaries.” 

For  four  days  her  body  remained  shrouded 
in  state  for  its  burial.  During  this  time  more 


THE  DIVORCE  AND  LAST  DAYS.  285 

than  twenty  thousand  of  the  people  of  France 
visited  her  beloved  remains.  On  the  2d  of  June, 
at  midday,  the  funeral  procession  moved  from 
Malmaison  to  Ruel,  where  the  body  was  depos- 
ited in  a tomb  of  the  village  church.  The  fu- 
neral services  were  conducted  with  the  greatest 
magnificence,  as  the  sovereigns  of  the  allied 
armies  united  with  the  French  in  doing  honor 
to  her  memory.  When  all  had  left  the  church 
but  Eugene  and  Hortense,  they  knelt  beside 
their  mother's  grave,  and  for  a long  time  min- 
gled their  prayers  and  their  tears.  A beautiful 
monument  of  white  marble,  representing  the 
empress  kneeling  in  her  coronation  robes,  is 
erected  over  her  burial-place,  with  this  simple 
but  affecting  inscription  : 

EUGENE  AND  HORTENSE 

TO 

JOSEPHINE. 


THE  END. 


